UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
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C.     G.     De  Garmo 


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BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI 

OR,   FREDERICK  THE   GREAT 
AND   HIS   FRIENDS 


^n  i^iatorical  Romance 


BY 

L    MUHLBACH 

AUTHOR  OP  JOSEPH  II.    AND   HIS  COURT,    FREDERICK   THE   CREAT  AND   HIS  COURT, 
MERCHANT   OF    BERLIN,    ETC. 


TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN    BY 

Mrs.  chapman   COLEMAN   AND   HER  DAUGHTERS 


NEW   YORK 

A.    L.    FOWLE,    Publisher 
1905 


Copyright,  1867, 

Bt  d.  appleton  and  company. 


OOIfTTENTS. 


-PT 

1905 
V.  ■R 


BOOK  I. 

PAOB 

Chap.  I. — The  Alchemist's  Incantation,     .           .           . 

9 

II.— The  Old  Courtier, 

14 

III. — The  Morning  Hours  of  a  King,  .... 

.      24 

IV.— The  Pardoned  Courtier,         .... 

33 

"V. — How  the  Princess  Ulrica  became  Queen  of  Sweden, 

44 

VI.— The  Tempter 

53 

VII.— The  First  Interview 

63 

VIII. — Signora  Barbarina,     ...           . 

72 

IX. — The  King  and  Barbarina,           .           .           . 

77 

X.— Eckhof, 

87 

XI. — A  Life  Question, . .           .           .           .           , 

95 

XII. — Superstition  and  Piety,         .           •           •           • 

102 

^ 


BOOK  II. 

Chap.  I. — The  Two  Sisters,  .... 

II.— The  Tempter, ..... 
III. — The  Wedding-Festival  of  the  Princess  Ulrica, 
IV. — Behind  the  Curtain,  .... 
V. — A  Shame-faced  King, 
VI. — The  First  Rendezvous,  . 

VII. — On  the  Balcony,    .  . 

VIII.— The  First  Cloud, 
IX.— The  Council  of  War, 
X. — The  Cloist«r  of  Camens, 
XI. — The  King  and  the  Abbot, 
XII. — The  Unknown  Abbot,  . 

XIII. — The  Levee  of  a  Dancer,   . 
XIV.— The  Studio,     . 
XV. — The  Confession,    .  . 

iii 


4C6613 


114 
122 
126 
131 
135 
145 
149 
157 
168 
172 
178 
184 
189 
200 
208 

\ 


IV 


BERLIN   AKD  SANS-SOUCl. 


XVI.— The  Traitor,    . 
XVII.— The  Silver- Ware,  . 
XVIIL— The  First  Flash  of  Lightning, 


PACK 

214 
223 
227 


BOOK  III. 

Chap.  I. — ^The  Actors  in  Halle, 
II. — The  Student  Lupinus, 
III. — The  Disturbance  in  the  Theatre, 
IV.— The  Friends,  . 
v.— The  Order  of  the  King,   . 
VI.— The  Battle  of  Sohr,    . 
VII.— After  the  Battle,  . 
VIII. — A  Letter  Pregnant  with  Fate, 
IX.— The  Return  to  Berlin,     . 
X.— Job's  Post,      . 
XL— The  Undeceived,  . 
XII.— Trenck's  First  Flight, 
XIII.— The  Flight, 
XIV.— "I  will," 

XV.— The  Last  Struggle  for  Power,     . 

XVI. — The  Disturbance  in  the  Theatre, 

XVIl. — Sans-Souci,  .  .  . 


BOOK  IV. 

Chap.  I. — The  Promise,  . 

II. — Voltaire  and  his  Royal  Friend, 
III.— The  Confidence-Table, 
IV. — The  Confidential  Dinner, 
V. — Rome  Sauvee, .  .  . 

VI. — A  Woman's  Heart, 
VII, — Madame  von  Cocceji,  . 

VIII.— Voltaire,    .  .  .  , 

IX. — A  Day  in  the  Life  of  Voltaire, 
X. — The  Lovers,  .  .  , 

XL — Barbarina,       .  .  . 

XII. — Intrigues,  .  .  ,  , 

XIIL— The  Last  Struggle,     . 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


rxciso 

PAGK 

Portrait  of  Voltaire Frontispiece 

Frederick  in  the  Cloister  of  Camens 178 

Sans-Souci     ...••. 859 


BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI; 

OB, 

FKEDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


BOOK  I. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  alchemist's  INCANTATION. 

It  was  a  lovely  May  morning!  The  early  rays  of  the 
Bun  had  not  withered  the  blossoms,  or  paled  the  fresh  green 
of  the  garden  of  Charlottenburg,  but  quickened  them  into 
new  life  and  beauty.  The  birds  sang  merrily  in  the  groves. 
The  wind,  with  light  whispers,  swept  through  the  long 
avenues  of  laurel  and  orange  trees,  which  surrounded  the 
superb  greenhouses  and  conservatories,  and  scattered  far 
and  wide  throughout  the  garden  clouds  of  intoxicating  per- 
fume. 

The  garden  was  quiet  and  solitary,  and  the  closed  shut- 
ters of  the  castle  proved  that  not  only  the  king,  but  the  en- 
tire household,  from  the  dignified  and  important  chamber- 
lain to  the  frisky  garden-boy,  still  slept.  Suddenly  the  si- 
lence was  broken  by  the  sound  of  hasty  steps,  A  young 
man,  in  simple  citizen  costume,  ran  up  the  great  avenue 
which  led  from  the  garden  gate  to  the  conservatory;  then 
cautiously  looking  about  him,  he  drew  near  to  a  window  of 
the  lower  story  in  a  wing  of  the  castle.  The  window  was 
closed  and  secured  with  inside  shutters;  a  small  piece  of 
white  paper  was  seen  between  the  glass  and  the  shutter. 
A  passer-by  might  have  supposed  this  was  accidental, 
but  the  young  burgher  knew  that  this  little  piece  of  paper 
was  a  signal.    His  light  stroke  upon  the  window  disturbed 

9 


10  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

for  a  moment  the  deathlike  silence  around,  but  produced  no 
other  effect;  he  struck  again,  more  loudly,  and  listened 
breathlessly.  The  shutters  were  slowly  and  cautiously 
opened  from  within,  and  behind  the  glass  was  seen  the  wan, 
sick  face  of  Fredersdorf,  the  private  secretary  and  favorite 
of  the  king.  When  he  saw  the  young  man,  his  features  as- 
sumed a  more  animated  expression,  and  a  hopeful  smile 
played  upon  his  lip ;  hastily  opening  the  window,  he  gave  the 
youth  his  hand.  "  Good-morning,  Joseph,"  said  he ;  "  I  have 
not  slept  during  the  whole  night,  I  was  so  impatient  to  re- 
ceive news  from  you.    Has  he  shown  himself  ?  " 

Joseph  bowed  his  head  sadly.  "  He  has  not  yet  shown 
himself,"  he  replied  in  a  hollow  voice ;  "  all  our  efforts  have 
been  in  vain;  we  have  again  sacrificed  time,  money,  and 
strength.    He  has  not  yet  appeared." 

"  Alas ! "  cried  Fredersdorf,  "  who  could  believe  it  so 
difficult  to  move  the  devil  to  appear  in  person,  when  he 
makes  his  presence  known  daily  and  hourly  through  the 
deeds  of  men  ?  I  must  and  will  see  him !  He  must  and  shall 
make  known  this  mystery.  He  shall  teach  me  how  and  of 
what  to  make  gold." 
I       "  He  will  yield  at  last !  "  cried  Joseph,  solemnly. 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  Will  we  succeed  ?  Is  not  all  hope 
lost?" 

"  All  is  not  lost :  the  astrologer  heard  this  night,  during 
his  incantations,  the  voice  of  the  devil,  and  saw  for  one 
moment  the  glare  of  his  eye,  though  he  could  not  see  his 
person." 

"  He  saw  the  glare  of  his  eye ! "  repeated  Fredersdorf 
joyfully.  "  Oh,  we  will  yet  compel  him  to  show  himself 
wholly.  He  must  teach  us  to  make  gold.  And  what  said 
the  voice  of  the  devil  to  our  astrologer  ? " 

"  He  said  these  words :  *  Would  you  see  my  face  and  hear 
words  of  golden  wisdom  from  my  lips?  so  offer  me,  when 
next  the  moon  is  full  and  shimmers  like  liquid  gold  in  the 
heavens,  a  black  ram;  and  if  you  shed  his  blood  for  me, 
and  if  not  one  white  hair  can  be  discovered  upon  him,  I  will 
appear  and  be  subject  to  you.'" 

"  Another  month  of  waiting,  of  patience,  and  of  torture," 
murmured  Fredersdorf.    "  Four  weeks  to  search  for  this 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.      H 

black  ram  without  a  single  white  hair;  it  will  be  difficult  to 
find!" 

"  Oh,  the  world  is  large ;  we  will  send  our  messengers  in 
every  quarter;  we  will  find  it.  Those  who  truly  seek,  find 
at  last  what  they  covet.  But  we  will  require  much  gold, 
and  we  are  suffering  now,  unhappily,  for  the  want  of  it." 

"  We  ?  whom  do  you  mean  by  we  ?  "  asked  Fredersdorf , 
with  a  contemptuous  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"  I,  in  my  own  person,  above  all  others,  need  gold.  You 
can  well  understand,  my  brother,  that  a  student  as  I  am  has 
no  superfluous  gold,  even  to  pay  his  tailor's  bills,  much  less  to 
buy  black  rams.  Captain  Kleist,  in  whose  house  the  assem- 
bly meets  to-night,  has  already  offered  up  far  more  valuable 
things  than  a  score  of  black  rams;  he  has  sacrificed  his 
health,  his  rest,  and  his  domestic  peace.  His  beautiful  wife 
finds  it  strange,  indeed,  that  he  should  seek  the  devil  every 
night  everywhere  else  than  in  her  lovely  presence." 

"Yes,  I  understand  that!  The  bewitching  Madame 
Kleist  must  ever  remain  the  vain-glorious  and  coquettish 
Louise  von  Schwerin;  marriage  has  infused  no  water  in  her 
veins." 

"  Xo !  but  it  has  poured  a  river  of  wine  in  the  blood  of 
her  husband,  and  in  this  turbid  stream  their  love  and  happi- 
ness is  drowned.  Kleist  is  but  a  corpse,  whom  we  must  soon 
bury  from  our  sight.  The  king  has  made  separation  and  di- 
vorce easy ;  yes,  easier  tha^  marriage.  Is  it  not  so,  my  broth- 
er ?  Ah,  you  blush ;  you  find  that  your  light-hearted  brother 
has  more  observant  eyes  thai^  you  thought,  and  sees  that 
which  you  intended  to  conceal.  Yes,  yes!  I  have  indeed 
seen  that  you  have  been  wounded  by  Cupid's  arrow,  and  that 
your  heart  bleeds  while  our  noble  king  refuses  his  consent 
to  your  marriage." 

"  Ah,  let  me  once  discover  this  holy  mystery — once  learn 
how  to  make  gold,  and  I  will  have  no  favor  to  ask  of  any 
earthly  monarch;  I  shall  acknowledge  no  other  sovereign 
than  my  own  will." 

"  And  to  become  the  possessor  of  this  secret,  and  your 
own  master*  you  require  nothing  but  a  black  ram.  Create 
for  us,  then,  my  powerful  and  wealthy  brother,  a  black  ram, 
and  the  work  is  done !  " 


12  BERLIN   AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

"  Alas !  to  think,"  cried  Fredersdorf ,  "  that  I  cannot 
absent  myself;  that  I  must  fold  my  hands  and  wait  silently 
and  quietly !  What  slavery  is  this !  but  you,  you  are  not  in 
bondage  as  I  am.  The  whole  world  is  before  you;  you  can 
seek  throughout  the  universe  for  this  blood-offering  de- 
manded by  the  devil." 

"  Give  us  gold,  brother,  and  we  will  seek ;  without  gold, 
no  black  ram ;  without  the  black  ram,  no  devil !  " 

Fredersdorf  disappeared  a  moment  and  returned  with  a 
well-filled  purse,  which  he  handed  to  his  brother.  "  There, 
take  the  gold;  send  your  messengers  in  every  quarter;  go 
yourself  and  search.  You  must  either  find  or  create  him. 
I  swear  to  you,  if  you  do  not  succeed,  I  will  withdraw  my 
protection  from  you;  you  will  be  only  a  poor  student,  and 
must  maintain  yourself  by  your  studies." 

"  That  would  be  a  sad  support,  indeed,"  said  the  young 
man,  smiling.  "  I  am  more  than  willing  to  choose  another 
path  in  life.  I  would,  indeed,  prefer  being  an  artist  to  being 
a  philosopher." 

"  An  artist !  "  cried  Fredersdorf,  contemptuously ;  "  have 
you  discovered  in  yourself  an  artist's  vein  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  or  rather,  Eckhof  has  awakened  my  sleeping 
talent." 

"  Eckhof— who  is  Eckhof?  " 

"  How  ?  you  ask  who  is  Eckhof  ?  You  know  not,  then, 
this  great,  this  exalted  artist,  who  arrived  here  some  weeks 
since,  and  has  entranced  every  one  who  has  a  German  heart 
in  his  bosom,  by  his  glorious  acting?  I  saw  him  a  few  days 
since  in  Golsched's  Cato.  Ah!  my  brother,  on  that  evening 
it  was  clear  to  me  that  I  also  was  born  for  something  greater 
than  to  sit  in  a  lonely  study,  and  seek  in  musty  books  for 
viseless  scraps  of  knowledge.  Xo !  I  will  not  make  the  world 
still  darker  and  mistier  for  myself  with  the  dust  of  ancient 
books;  I  will  illuminate  my  world  by  the  noblest  of  all  arts 
■ — I  will  become  an  actor !  " 

"Fantastic  fool!"  said  his  brother.  "A  German  actor  1 
that  is  to  say,  a  beggar  and  a  vagabond!  who  wanders  from 
city  to  city,  and  from  village  to  village,  with  his  stage  finery, 
who  is  laughed  at  everywhere,  even  as  the  monkeys  are 
laughed  at  when  they  make  their  somersets  over  the  camels' 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       13 

backs ;  it  might  answer  to  be  a  dancer,  or,  at  least,  a  French 
actor." 

"  It  is  true  that  the  German  stage  is  a  castaway — a  Cin- 
derella— thrust  aside,  and  clothed  with  sackcloth  and  ashes, 
while  the  spoiled  and  petted  step-child  is  clothed  in  gold- 
embroidered  robes.  Alas !  alas !  it  is  a  bitter  thing  that  the 
French  actors  are  summoned  by  the  king  to  perform  in  the 
royal  castle,  while  Schonemein,  the  director  of  the  German 
theatre,  must  rent  the  Council-house  for  a  large  sum  of 
money,  and  must  pay  a  heavy  tax  for  the  permission  to  give 
to  the  German  public  a  German  stage.  Wait  patiently, 
brother,  all  this  shall  be  changed,  when  the  mystery  of  mys- 
teries is  discovered,  when  we  have  found  the  black  ram! 
I  bless  the  accident  which  gave  me  a  knowledge  of  your 
secret,  which  forced  you  to  receive  me  as  a  member  in  order 
to  secure  my  silence.  I  shall  be  rich,  powerful,  and  influ- 
ential; I  will  build  a  superb  theatre,  and  fill  the  Germau 
heart  with  wonder  and  rapture." 

"  Well,  well,  let  us  first  understand  the  art  of  making 
gold,  and  we  will  make  the  whole  world  our  theatre,  and  all 
mankind  shall  play  before  us!  Hasten,  therefore,  brother, 
hasten!  By  the  next  full  moon  we  will  be  the  almighty 
rulers  of  the  earth  and  all  that  is  therein !  " 

"  Always  provided  that  we  have  found  the  black  ram." 

"  We  will  find  him !  If  necessary,  we  will  give  his 
weight  in  gold,  and  gold  can  do  all  things.  Honor,  love, 
power,  position,  and  fame,  can  all  be  bought  with  gold! 
Let  us,  then,  make  haste  to  be  rich.  To  be  rich  is 
to  be  independent,  free,  and  gloriously  happy.  Go,  my 
brother,  go!  and  may  you  soon  return  crowned  with  suc- 
cess." 

"  I  have  still  a  few  weighty  questions  to  ask.  In  the  first 
place,  where  shall  I  go  ?  " 

"  To  seek  the  black  ram — it  makes  no  difference  where." 

"  Ah !  it  makes  no  difference !  You  do  not  seem  to  re- 
member that  the  vacation  is  over,  that  the  professors  of  the 
T^niversity  of  Halle  have  threatened  to  dismiss  me  if  my 
attendance  is  so  irregular.  I  must,  therefore,  return  to 
Halle  to-day,  or — " 

"  Eeturn  to  Halle  to-day  I "  cried  Fredersdorf ,  with  hor- 


U  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

rot.  "  That  is  impossible  1  You  cannot  return  to  Halle, 
unless  you  have  already  found  what  we  need." 

"  And  that  not  being  the  case,  I  shall  not  return  to  Halle ; 
I  shall  be  dismissed,  and  will  cease  to  be  a  student.  Do  you 
consent,  then,  that  I  shall  become  an  actor,  and  take  the 
great  Eckhof  for  my  only  professor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  consent,  provided  the  command  of  the  alche- 
mist is  complied  with." 

"  And  how  if  the  alchemist,  notwithstanding  the  blood 
of  the  black  ram,  is  unhappily  not  able  to  bring  up  the 
devil?" 

At  this  question,  a  feverish  crimson  spot  took  possession 
of  the  wan  cheek  of  Fredersdorf,  which  was  instantly  chased 
away  by  a  more  intense  pallor.  "  If  that  is  the  result,  I  will 
either  go  mad  or  die,"  he  murmured. 

"  And  then  will  you  see  the  devil  face  to  face  1 "  cried  his 
brother,  with  a  gay  laugh.  "  But  perhaps  you  might  find  a 
Eurydice  to  unlock  the  under  world  for  you.  Well,  we  shall 
see.  Till  then,  farewell,  brother,  farewell."  Nodding  mer- 
rily to  Fredersdorf,  Joseph  hurried  away. 

Fredersdorf  watched  his  tall  and  graceful  figur*'  as  it 
disappeared  among  the  trees  with  a  sad  smile. 

"  He  possesses  something  which  is  worth  more  than  power 
or  gold;  he  is  young,  healthy,  full  of  hope  and  confidence. 
The  world  belongs  to  him,  while  I — " 

The  soimd  of  footsteps  called  his  attention  again  to  the 
alUe. 


CHAPTER  n. 

THE  OLD  COURTIER. 

The  figure  of  a  man  was  seen  approaching,  but  with  steps 
less  light  and  active  than  young  Joseph's.  As  the  stranger 
drew  nearer,  Fredersdorf's  features  expressed  great  surprise. 
When  at  last  he  drew  up  at  the  window,  the  secretary  burst 
into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"  Von  PuUnitz !  really  and  truly  I  do  not  deceive  mysolf," 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       15 

cried  Fredersdorf,  clapping  his  hands  together,  and  again 
and  again  uttering  peals  of  laughter,  in  which  Pollnitz  heart- 
ily joined. 

Then  suddenly  assuming  a  grave  and  dignified  manner, 
Fredersdorf  bowed  lowly  and  reverentially.  "  Pardon,  Baron 
Pollnitz,  pardon,"  said  he  in  a  tone  of  mock  humility,  "  that 
I  have  dared  to  welcome  you  in  such  an  unseemly  manner. 
I  was  indeed  amazed  to  see  you  again;  you  had  taken  an 
eternal  leave  of  the  court,  we  had  shed  rivers  of  tears  over 
your  irreparable  loss,  and  your  unexpected  presence  com- 
pletely overpowered  me." 

"  Mock  and  jeer  at  me  to  your  heart's  content,  dear 
Fredersdorf ;  I  will  joyfully  and  lustily  unite  in  your  laugh- 
ter and  your  sport,  as  soon  as  I  have  recovered  from  the 
fearful  jolting  of  the  carriage  which  brought  me  here.  Be 
pleased  to  open  the  window  a  little  more,  and  place  a  chair 
on  the  outside,  that  I  may  climb  in,  like  an  ardent,  ea- 
ger lover.  I  have  not  patience  to  go  round  to  the  castle 
door." 

Fredersdorf  silently  obeyed  orders,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments Von  Pollnitz  was  lying  comfortably  stretched  out  on 
a  silk  divan,  in  the  secretary's  room. 

"  Ask  me  no  questions,  Fredersdorf,"  said  he,  breathing 
loudly;  "leave  me  awhile  to  enjoy  undisturbed  the  comfort 
of  your  sofa,  and  do  me  the  favor  first  to  answer  me  a  few 
questions,  before  I  reply  to  yours." 

"  Demand,  baron,  and  I  will  answer,"  said  Fredersdorf, 
seating  himself  on  a  chair  near  the  sofa. 

"  First  of  all,  who  is  King  of  Prussia  ?  You,  or  Jordan, — 
or  General  Kothenberg, — or  Chazot, — or — speak,  man,  who  is 
King  of  Prussia  ?  " 

"  Frederick  the  Second,  and  he  alone ;  and  he  so  entirely, 
that  even  his  ministers  are  nothing  more  than  his  secretaries, 
to  write  at  his  dictation;  and  his  generals  are  only  subor- 
dinate engineers  to  draw  the  plans  of  battle  which  he  has 
already  fully  determined  upon;  his  composers  are  only  the 
copyists  of  his  melodies  and  his  musical  conceptions;  the 
architects  are  carpenters  to  build  according  to  the  plan 
which  he  has  either  drawn  or  chosen  from  amongst  old 
Grecian  models:  in  short,  all  who  serve  him  are  literally 


16  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

servants  in  this  great  state  machine;  they  understand  his 
will  and  obey  it,  nothing  more." 

"  Hum !  that  is  bad,  very  bad,"  said  Pollnitz.  "  I  have 
found,  however,  that  there  Lre  two  sorts  of  men,  and  you 
have  mentioned  in  your  catalogue  but  one  species,  who  have 
fallen  so  completely  under  the  hand  of  Frederick.  You  have 
said  nothing  of  his  cook,  of  his  valet-de-chambre,  and  yet 
these  are  most  important  persons.  You  must  know  that 
in  the  presence  of  these  powers,  a  king  ceases  to  be  a  king, 
and  indeed'  becomes  an  entirely  commonplace  mortal,  who 
eats  and  drinks  and  clothes  himself,  and  who  must  cither 
conceal  or  adorn  his  bodily  necessities  and  weaknesses  like 
any  other  man." 

Fredersdorf  shook  his  head  saJly.  "  It  seems  to  me  that 
Frederick  the  Second  is  beyond  the  pale  of  temptation;  for 
even  with  his  cook  and  his  valet  he  is  still  a  king;  his  cook 
may  prepare  him  the  most  costly  and  luxurious  viands,  but 
unhappily  they  do  not  lead  him  into  temptation ;  a  bad  dish 
makes  him  angry,  but  the  richest  and  choicest  food  has  no 
effect  upon  his  humor;  he  is  exactly  the  same  before  dinner 
as  after,  fasting  or  feasting,  and  the  favor  he  refuses  before 
the  champagne,  he  never  grants  afterward." 

"  The  devil !  that  is  worse  still,"  murmured  Pollnitz. 
"  And  the  valet — with  him  also  does  the  king  remain  king  ?  " 

"  Yes,  so  entirely,  that  he  scarcely  allows  his  valet  to 
touch  him.     He  shaves,  coifs,  and  dresses  himself." 

"  My  God !  who,  then,  has  any  influence  over  him  ?  To 
whom  can  I  turn  to  obtain  a  favor  for  me  ?  " 

"  To  his  dogs,  dear  baron ;  they  are  now  the  only  influ- 
ential depeixdants !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  truly  the  four-footed  dogs  ? — or — " 

"  The  four-footed,  dearest  baron !  Frederick  has  more 
confidence  in  them  than  in  any  two-legged  animal.  You 
know  the  king  always  trusted  mucH  to  the  instincts  of  his 
dogs;  he  has  now  gone  so  far  in  this  confidence,  as  to  be- 
lieve that  the  hounds  have  an  instinctive  aversion  to  all 
false,  wicked,  and  evil-minded  men.  It  is  therefore  very 
important  to  every  new-comer  to  be  well  received  by  the 
hounds,  as  the  king's  reception  is  somewhat  dependent  upon 
theirs." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       1'7 

"  Is  Biche  yet  with  the  king  ?  " 

"Yes,  still  his  greatest  favorite." 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  that !  I  was  always  in  favor  with 
the  Signora  Biche;  it  was  her  custom  to  smell  my  pocket, 
hoping  to  find  chocolate.  I  beseech  you,  therefore,  dearest 
friend,  to  give  me  some  chocolate,  "With  which  I  may  touch 
and  soften  the  heart  of  the  noble  signora,  and  thus  induce 
the  king  to  look  upon  me  favorably. 

"  I  will  stick  a  half  found  in  each  of  ^our  pockets,  and  if 
Biche  still  growls  at  you,  it  will  be  a  proof  that  she  is  far 
more  noble  than  men ;  in  short,  that  she  cannot  be  bribed. 
Have  you  finished  with  your  questions?  I  think  it  is  now 
my  time  to  begin." 

"  ISfot  so,  my  friend.  My  head  is  still  entirely  filled  with 
questions,  and  they  are  twining  and  twisting  about  like 
the  fishing-worms  in  a  bag,  by  the  help  of  which  men  hope 
to  secure  fish.  Be  pitiful  and  allow  me  to  fasten  a  few  more 
of  these  questions  to  my  fishing-rod,  and  thus  try  to  secure 
my  future." 

"  Well,  then,  go  on — ask  further !  " 

"  Does  Frederick  show  no  special  interest  in  any  prima 
donna  of  the  opera,  the  ballet,  or  the  theatre  ? " 

"  'No,  he  cares  for  none  of  these  things." 

**  Is  his  heart,  then,  entirely  turned  to  stone  ?  " 

"  Wholly  and  entirely." 

"  And  the  queen-mother,  hrs  she  no  influence  ?  " 

"My  God!  Baron  PoUnitz,  how  long  have  you  been 
away?  You  ask  me  as  many  questions  as  if  you  had  fallen 
directly  from  the  moon,  and  knew  not  even  the  outward  ap- 
pearance of  the  court." 

"  Dear  friend,  I  have  been  a  whole  year  away,  that  is  to 
say,  an  eternity.  The  court  is  a  very  slippery  place ;  and  if 
a  man  does  not  accustom  himself  hourly  to  walk  over  this 
glassy  parquet,  he  will  surely  fall. 

"  Also  there  is  nothing  so  uncertain  as  a  court  life ;  that 
whi  -h  is  true  to-day,  is  to-morrow  considered  incredible ; 
that  which  was  beautiful  yesterday  is  thrust  aside  to-day, 
as  hateful  to  look  upon;  that  which  we  despise  to-day  is  to- 
morrow sought  after  as  a  rare  and  precious  gem. 

"  Oh,   I  have   had  my  experiences.    I  remember,   that 


Ig  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OB, 

while  I  was  residing  at  the  6ourt  of  Saxony,  I  composed  a 
poem  in  honor  of  the  Countess  Aurora  of  Konigsmark.  This 
was  by  special  command  of  the  king;  the  poem  was  to  be 
set  to  music  by  Hasse,  and  sung  by  the  Italian  singers  on  the 
birthday  of  Aurora.  Well,  the  Countess  Aurora  was  cast 
aside  before  my  poem  was  finished,  and  the  Countess  Kozel 
had  taken  her  place.  I  finished  my  poem,  but  Amelia,  and 
not  Aurora,  was  my  heroine.  Hasse  composed  the  music, 
and  no  one  who  attended  the  concert,  given  in  honor  of  the 
birthday  of  the  Countess  Ivozel,  had  an  idea  that  this  festal 
cantata  had  been  originally  ordered  for  Aurora  of  Konigs- 
mark ! 

"  Once,  while  I  was  in  Russia,  I  had  an  audienCd  ttOtb. 
the  Empress  Elizabeth.  As  I  approached  the  castle,  leaning 
on  the  arm  of  the  Captain  Ischerbatow,  I  observed  the 
guard,  who  stood  before  the  door,  and  presented  arms.  Well, 
eight  weeks  later,  this  common  guard  was  a  general  and  a 
prince,  and  Isoherbatow  was  compelled  to  bow  before  him! 

"  I  saw  in  Venice  a  picture  of  the  day  of  judgment  by 
Tintoretto.  In  this  picture  both  Paradise  and  Hell  were 
portrayed.  I  saw  in  Paradise  a  lovely  woman  glowing  with 
youth,  beauty,  and  grace.  She  was  reclining  in  a  most 
enchanting  attitude,  upon  a  bed  of  roses,  and  surrounded  by 
angels.  Below,  on  the  other  half  of  the  picture — that  is  to 
say,  in  Hell — I  saw  the  same  woman;  she  had  no  couch  of 
roses,  but  was  stretched  upon  a  glowing  gridiron;  no  smil- 
ing angels  surrounded  her,  but  a  hideous,  grinning  devil  tore 
her  flesh  with  red-hot  pincers. 

"Pope  Adrian  had  commanded  Tintoretto  to  paint  this 
picture,  to  make  it  a  monument  in  honor  of  the  lovely  Cin- 
nia,  and  to  glorify  her  by  all  the  power  of  art.  Cinuia  was 
a  very  dear  friend  of  Adrian.  He  was  not  only  a  pope,  but 
a  man,  and  a  man  who  took  pleasure  in  all  beautiful  things. 
Cinnia  was  enchanting,  and  it  was  Tintoretto's  first  duty  to 
p^nt  her  picture,  and  make  her  the  principal  object  in  Para- 
dise. But  look  you!  the  Last  Judgment  by  Tintoretto  was 
a  large  painting,  so  large  that  to  count  even  the  heads  upon 
it  is  laborious.  The  heads  in  each  comer  are  counted  sepa- 
rately, and  then  added  together.  It  required  some  j'ears. 
of  course,  to  paint  such  a  picture;  and  by  the  time  Tinto- 


i'KEDEKICK  THE    GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       19 

retto  had  completed  Paradise  and  commenced  the  lower 
regions,  many  sad  changes  had  occurred.  The  fond  heart 
of  the  seducing  Cinnia  had  withdrawn  itself  from  the  pope 
and  clung  tenaciously  to  Prince  Colonna.  The  Holy  Father, 
as  we  have  said  before,  notwithstanding  he  was  pope,  had 
some  human  weaknesses;  he  naturally  hated  the  fair  in- 
constant, and  sought  revenge.  He  recommended  Tintoretto 
to  bring  the  erring  one  once  more  before  the  public — this 
time,  however,  as  a  guilty  and  condemned  sinner  in  hell. 

"  Dear  Fredersdorf,  I  think  always  of  this  picture  when  I 
look  at  the  favorites  of  princes  and  kings,  and  I  amuse  my- 
self with  their  pride  and  arrogance.  When  I  see  them  in 
their  sunny  paradise  of  power  and  influence,  I  say  to  myself, 
'  All's  well  for  the  fleeting  present,  I'll  wait  patiently ;  soon 
I  shall  see  you  roasting  on  the  glowing  gridiron  of  royal 
displeasure,  and  the  envious  devils  of  this  world  filled  with 
rapture  at  your  downfall,  will  tear  your  flesh  to  pieces.' 
Friend  Fredersdorf,  that  is  my  answer  to  your  question  as 
to  whether  I  have  in  one  short  year  forgotten  the  quality 
of  court  life." 

"  And  by  Heaven,  that  is  a  profound  answer,  which  shows 
at  least  that  Baron  PoUnitz  has  undergone  no  change  during 
the  last  year,  but  is  still  the  experienced  man  of  the  world 
and  the  wise  cavalier !  " 

"  But  why  do  you  not  give  me  my  title,  Fredersdorf  ? 
Why  do  you  not  call  me  grand  chamberlain  ? " 

"  Because  you  are  no  longer  in  the  service  of  the  king, 
but  have  received  your  dismissal." 

"  Alas  1  God  grant  that  the  Signora  Biche  is  favorable  to 
me;  then  will  the  king,  as  I  hope,  forget  this  dismissal. 
One  question  more.  You  say  that  the  queen-mother  has  no 
influence;  how  is  it  with  the  wife  of  the  king,  Elizabeth 
Christine  ?     Is  she  indeed  the  reigning  sovereign  ?  " 

"  When  did  you  return  to  Berlin  ?  " 

"  Now,  to-night ;  and  when  I  left  the  carriage,  I  hastened 
here." 

"  Well,  that  is  some  excuse  for  your  question.  If  you 
have  only  just  arrived,  you  could  not  possibly  know  of  the 
important  event  which  will  take  place  at  the  court  to-night. 
This  evening  the  king  will  present  his  brother,  Augustus 


20  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

William,  to  the  court  as  Prince  of  Prussia,  and  his  successor, 
I  think  that  is  a  sufficient  answer  to  your  question.  As  to 
Queen  Elizabeth  Christine,  she  lives  at  Schonhausen,  and 
might  be  called  the  widow  of  her  husband.  The  king  never 
addresses  one  word  to  her,  not  even  on  grand  festal  days, 
when  etiquette  compels  him  to  take  a  seat  by  her  at  table." 

"  Now,  one  last  question,  dear  friend.  How  is  it  with 
yourself?  Are  you  influential?  Does  Frederick  love  you 
as  warmly  as  he  did  a  year  ago?  Do  you  hope  to  reach  the 
goal  of  your  ambition  and  become  all-powerful  ? " 

"  I  have  ceased  to  be  ambitious,"  sighed  Fredersdorf . 
"  I  no  longer  thirst  to  be  the  king  of  a  king.  My  only  de- 
sire is  to  be  independent  of  courts  and  kings — in  short,  to  be 
my  own  master.  Perhaps  I  may  succeed  in  this;  if  not,  be 
ruined,  as  many  others  have  been.  If  I  cannot  tear  my 
-chains  apart,  I  will  perish  under  them!  As  for  my  influ- 
ence over  the  king,  it  is  sufficient  to  say,  that  for  six  months 
I  have  loved  a  woman  to  distraction,  who  returns  my  pas- 
sion with  ardor,  and  I  cannot  marry  her  because  the  king, 
notwithstanding  my  prayers  and  agony,  will  not  consent." 

"  He  is  right,"  said  Pollnitz,  earnestly,  as  he  stretched 
himself  out  comfortably  on  the  sofa ;  "  he  is  a  fool  who 
thinks  of  yielding  up  his  manly  freedom  to  any  woman." 

"  You  say  that,  baron  ?  you,  who  gave  up  king  and  court, 
and  went  to  Nurnberg,  in  order  that  you  might  marry !  " 

"  Aha !  how  adroitly  you  have  played  the  knife  out  of 
my  hands,  and  have  yourself  become  the  questioner!  Well- 
it  is  but  just  that  you  also  should  have  your  curiosity  satis- 
fied.    Demand  of  me  now  and  I  will  answer  frankly." 

"  You  are  not  married,  baron  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least ;  and  I  have  sworn  that  the  goddess 
Fortuna  alone  shall  be  my  beloved.  I  will  have  no  mortal 
wife." 

"  The  report,  then,  is  untrue  that  you  have  again  changed 
your  religion,  and  become  Protestant  ? " 

"  No,  this  time  rumor  has  spoken  the  truth.  The  Num- 
berger  patrician  would  accept  no  hand  offered  by  a  Catholic ; 
so  I  took  off  the  glove  of  my  Catholicism  and  drew  on  my 
Protestant  one.  My  God !  to  a  man  of  the  world,  his  outside 
faith  is  nothing  more  than  an  article  of  the  toilet.    Do  you 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       21 

Hot  know  that  it  is  bo7i  ton  for  princes  when  they  visit 
strange  courts  to  wear  the  orders  and  uniforms  of  their 
entertainers?  So  it  is  my  rule  of  etiquette  to  adopt  the 
religion  which  the  circumstances  in  which  I  find  myself 
seem  to  make  suitable  and  profitable.  My  situation  in 
Xurnberg  demanded  that  I  should  become  a  Protestant,  and 
I  became  one." 

"  And  for  all  that  the  marriage  did  not  take  place  ? " 

"  No,  it  was  broken  off  through  the  obstinacy  of  my  bride, 
who  refused  to  live  in  good  fellowship  and  equality  with  me, 
and  gave  me  only  the  use  of  her  income,  and  no  right  in  her 
property.  Can  you  conceive  of  such  folly?  She  imagined 
I  would  give  myself  in  marriage,  and  make  a  baroness  of 
an  indifferently  pretty  burgher  maiden;  yes,  a  baroness  of 
the  realm,  and  expect  no  other  compensation  for  it  than  a 
wife  to  bore  me !  She  wished  to  wed  my  rank,  and  found 
it  offensive  that  I  should  marry,  not  only  her  fair  self,  but 
her  millions !  The  contest  over  this  point  broke  off  the 
contract,  and  I  am  glad  of  it.  From  my  whole  soul  I  regret 
and  am  ashamed  of  having  ever  thought  of  marriage.  The 
king,  therefore,  has  reason  to  be  pleased  with  me." 
*  "  You  are  thinking,  then,  seriously  of  remaining  at 
court  ? " 

"  Do  you  not  find  that  natural,  Fredersdorf  ?  I  have 
lived  fifty  years  at  this  court,  and  accustomed  myself  to  its 
stupidity,  its  nothingness,  and  its  ceremony,  as  a  man  may 
accustom  himself  to  a  hard  tent-bed,  and  find  it  at  last  more 
luxurious  than  a  couch  of  eider-down.  Besides,  I  have  just 
lost  a  million  in  K'urnbcrg,  and  I  must  find  a  compensation ; 
the  means  at  least  to  close  my  life  worthily  as  a  cavalier. 
I  must,  therefore,  again  bow  my  free  neck,  and  enter  service. 
You  must  aid  me,  and  this  day  obtain  for  me  an  audience 
of  the  king.  I  hope  your  influence  will  reach  that  far.  The 
rest  must  be  my  own  affair." 

"  We  will  see  what  can  be  done.  I  have  joyful  news  for 
the  king  to-day.  Perhaps  it  will  make  him  gay  ^nd  com- 
plaisant, and  he  will  grant  you  an  audience." 

"  And  this  news  which  you  have  for  him?  '• 

"  The  Barbarina  has  arrived !  " 

"Whatl  the  celebrated  ^f^ncerT' 


22  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  The  same.  We  have  seized  and  forcibly  carried  her 
off  from  the  republic  of  Venice  and  from  Lord  McKenzie; 
and  Baron  Swartz  has  brought  her  as  prisoner  to  Berlin !  " 

Pollnitz  half  raised  himself  from  the  sofa,  and,  seizing 
the  arm  of  the  private  secretary,  he  looked  him  joyfully  in 
the  face.  "  I  have  conceived  a  plan,"  said  he,  "  a  heavenly 
plan!  My  friend,  the  sun  of  power  and  splendor  is  rising 
for  us,  and  your  ambition,  which  has  been  weary  and  ready 
to  die,  will  now  revive,  and  raise  its  head  proudly  on  high! 
That  which  I  have  long  sought  for  is  at  last  found.  The 
king  is  too  young,  too  ardent,  too  much  the  genius  and  poet, 
to  be  completely  unimpassioned.  Even  Achilles  was  not 
impenetrable  in  the  heel,  and  Frederick  has  also  his  mortal 
part.  Do  you  know,  Fredersdorf ,  who  will  discover  the  weak 
point,  and  send  an  arrow  there  ? " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  you :  the  Signora  Barbarina.  Ah,  you 
smile!  you  shake  your  unbelieving  head.  You  are  no  good 
psychologist.  Do  you  not  know  that  we  desire  most  earnestly 
that  which  seems  difficult,  if  not  impossible  to  attain,  and 
prize  most  highly  that  which  we  have  won  with  danger  and 
difficulty?  Judge,  also,  how  precious  a  treasure  the  Bar- 
barina must  be  to  Frederick.  For  her  sake  he  has  for 
months  carried  on  a  diplomatic  contest  with  Venice,  and  at 
last  he  has  literally  torn  her  away  from  my  Lord  Stuart 
McKenzie." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Fredersdorf,  thoughtfully ;  "  for  ten 
days  the  king  has  waited  with  a  rare  impatience  for  the 
arrival  of  this  beautiful  dancer,  and  he  commanded  that, 
as  soon  as  she  reached  Berlin,  it  should  be  annoimced  to 
him." 

"I  tell  you  the  king  will  adore  the  Signora  Barbarina," 
said  Pollnitz,  as  he  once  more  stretched  himself  upon  the 
sofa  pillows.  "  I  shall  visit  her  to-day,  and  make  the  neces- 
snry  arrangements.  Now  I  am  content.  I  see  land,  a  small 
island  of  glorious  promise,  which  will  receive  me,  the  poor 
shipwrecked  mariner,  and  give  me  shelter  and  protection. 
T  will  make  myself  the  indispensable  counsellor  of  Bar- 
barina; I  will  teach  her  how  she  can  melt  the  stony  heart  of 
Frederick,  and  make  him  her  willing  slave." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       23 

"  Dreams,  dreams ! "  said  Fredersdorf ,  shrugging  hii 
shoulders. 

"  Dreams  which  I  will  make  realities  as  soon  as  you  ob- 
tain me  an  audience  with  the  king." 

"  Well,  we  will  see  what  can  be  done,  and  whether — 
but  listen,  the  king  is  awake,  and  has  opened  his  window. 
He  is  playing  upon  the  flute,  which  is  his  morning  custom. 
His  morning  music  is  always  the  barometer  of  his  mood,  and 
I  can  generally  judge  what  kind  of  royal  weather  we  will 
have,  whether  bright  or  stormy.  Come  with  me  to  the  win- 
dow and  listen  awhile." 

"Agreed,"  said  Pollnitz,  and  he  sprang  with  youthful 
elasticity  from  the  divan  and  joined  Fredersdorf  at  the 
window.  They  listened  almost  breathlessly  to  the  sweet 
tones  which  seemed  to  whisper  to  tbf^ni  from  the  upper  win- 
dows; then  mingling  and  melting  with  the  perfume  of  the 
orange-blossoms  and  the  glorious  and  life-giving  morning 
air,  they  forced  their  sweet  and  subtle  essence  into  the  room 
with  the  cunning  and  hardened  old  courtiers. 

Fredersdorf  and  Pollnitz  listened  as  a  sly  bat  listens  to 
the  merry  whistling  of  an  innocent  bird,  and  watches  the 
propitious  moment  to  spring  upon  her  prey.  It  was  an  ada- 
gio which  the  king  played  upon  his  flute,  and  he  was  indeed 
a  master  in  the  art.  Slightly  trembling,  as  if  in  eternal 
melancholy,  sobbing  and  pleading,  soon  bursting  out  in  rap- 
turous and  joyful  strains  of  harmony,  again  sighing  and  weep- 
ing, these  melting  tones  fell  like  costly  pearls  upon  the  sum- 
mer air.  The  birds  in  the  odorous  bushes,  the  wind  which 
rustled  in  the  trees,  the  light  waves  of  the  river,  which  with 
soft  murmurs  prattled  upon  the  shore,  all  Nature  seemed  for 
the  moment  to  hold  her  breath  and  listen  to  this  enchanting 
melody.  Even  Fredersdorf  felt  the  power  and  influence  of 
this  music  as  he  had  done  in  earlier  days.  The  old  love  for 
his  king  filled  his  heart,  and  his  eyes  were  misty  with  tears. 

As  the  music  ceased,  Fredersdorf  exclaimed  involunta- 
rily :  "  He  is,  after  all,  the  noblest  and  greatest  of  men.  It  is 
useless  to  be  angry  with  him.  I  am  forced  against  my  will 
to  worship  hira." 

"  Now,"  said  Pollnitz,  whose  face  had  not  for  one  moment 
lost  its  expression  of  cold  attention  and  sly  cunning,  "how 


24  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

says  the  barometer?  May  we  promise  ourselves  a  clear  and 
sunny  day  ? " 

*^  Yes,  Frederick  is  in  one  of  his  soft  and  yielding  moods. 
It  is  probable  he  has  been  some  hours  awake  and  has  written 
to  some  of  his  friends — perhaps  to  Voltaire,  or  Algarotti; 
this  makes  him  always  bright  and  clear." 

"  You  think  I  shall  obtain  my  audience  ? " 

"  I  think  you  will." 

"  Then,  dear  friend,  I  have  only  to  say  that  I  hope  you 
will  give  me  the  chocolate  for  that  noble  and  soul-searching 
hound,  the  Signora  Biche.". 


CHAPTER   ni. 
THE  MORNING  HOURS  OP  A  KING. 

King  Frederick  had  finished  the  adagio,  and  stood  lean- 
ing against  the  window  gazing  into  the  garden;  his  eyes, 
usually  so  fierce  and  commanding,  were  softened  by  melan- 
choly, and  a  sad  smile  played  upon  his  lips.  The  touching 
air  which  he  had  played  found  its  echo  within,  and  held 
his  soul  a  prisoner  to  troubled  thoughts.  Suddenly  he 
seemed  to  rouse  himself  by  a  great  effort  to  the  realities 
of  life,  and,  hastily  ringing  the  bell,  he  commanded  Jordan, 
the  director  of  the  poor  and  the  almshouse,  to  be  summoned 
to  him. 

A  few  moments  later,  Jordan,  who  had  been  for  some 
days  a  guest  at  the  castle  of  Charlottenburg,  entered  the 
king's  room.  Frederick  advanced  to  meet  him,  and  ex- 
tended both  hands  affectionately.  "  Good-morning,  Jordan," 
said  he,  gazing  into  the  wan,  thin  face  of  his  friend,  with  the 
most  earnest  sympathy.  "I  hope  you  had  a  refreshing 
night." 

"I  have  had  a  charming  night,  for  I  was  dreaming  of 
your  majesty,"  he  replied,  with  a  soft  smile. 

Frederick  sighed,  released  his  hands,  and  stepped  back 
a  few  paces.    "  Your  mr  jesty  ? "  repeated  he.   "  Why  do  you 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS.       25 

lay  so  cold  a  hand  upon  that  heart  which  beats  so  warmlj-  for 
you  ?  To  what  purpose  is  this  etiquette  ?  Are  we  not  alone  ? 
and  can  we  not  accord  to  our  souls  a  sweet  interchange  of 
thought  and  feeling  without  ceremony?  Do  we  not  under- 
stand and  love  each  other?  Forget,  then,  for  awhile,  dear 
Jordan,  all  these  worldly  distinctions.  You  see  I  am  still 
in  my  morning-dress.  I  do  not,  like  the  poor  kings  upon 
the  stage,  wear  my  crown  and  sceptre  in  bed,  or  with  my 
night-dress." 

Jordan  gazed  lovingly  and  admiringly  upon  his  great 
friend.  "  You  need  no  crown  upon  your  brow  to  show  to 
the  world  that  you  are  a  king  by  the  grace  of  God.  The 
majesty  of  greatness  is  written  upon  your  face,  my  king." 

"  That,"  said  Frederick  with  light  irony,  "  is  because  we 
princes  and  kings  are  acknowledged  to  be  the  exact  image 
of  the  Creator,  the  everlasting  Father.  As  for  you,  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  race,  you  dare  not  presume  to  compare  your- 
'  selves  with  us.  Probably  you  are  made  in  the  image  of 
the  second  and  third  persons  of  the  Trinity,  while  we  carry 
upon  our  withered  and  wearisome  faces  the  quintessence  of 
the  Godhead." 

"  Alas !  alas,  sire,  if  our  pious  priest  heard  you,  what 
a  stumbling-block  would  he  consider  you !  " 

The  king  smiled.  "  Do  you  know,  Jordan,"  said  he 
gravely,  "  I  believe  God  raised  me  up  for  this  special  mission, 
to  be  a  rock  of  offence  to  these  proud  and  worldly  priests, 
and  to  trample  under  foot  their  fooleries  and  their  arro- 
gance? I  look  upon  that  as  the  most  important  part  of  my 
mission  upon  earth,  and  I  am  convinced  that  I  am  appointed 
to  humble  this  proud  church,  the  vain  and  arrogant  work  of 
hypocritical  priests,  and  to  establish  in  its  place  the  pure 
worship  of  God." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Jordan,  shrugging  his  shoulders ;  "  if 
'»  the  mass  of  men  had  the  clear  intellect  of  a  Frederick!  if 
their  eyes  were  like  those  of  my  royal  eagle,  to  whom  it  is 
given  to  gaze  steadfastly  at  the  sun  without  being  dazzled. 
Alas !  sire,  the  most  of  our  race  resemble  you  so  little !  They 
are  all  like  the  solemn  night-owls,  who  draw  a  double  curtain 
over  their  eyes,  lest  the  light  should  blind  them.  The  church 
serves  as  this  double  eyelid  for  the  night-owls  among  men, 


36  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

or,  rather,  the  churches,  for  the  cunning  and  covetousness 
of  those  priests  has  not  been  satisfied  with  one  church,  but 
has  established  many." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  king  angrily ;  "  they  have  sown  dragons' 
teeth,  from  which  bloodthirsty  warriors  have  sprung,  who 
wander  up  and  down,  and  in  mad  ambition  tear  all  mankind, 
and  themselves  included,  to  pieces.  Listen,  Jordan,  we  have 
fallen  upon  a  subject  which,  as  you  know,  has  interested 
and  occupied  me  much  of  late,  and  it  is  precisely  upon  these 
points  that  I  have  sought  your  counsel  to-day.  Be  seated, 
then,  and  hear  what  I  have  to  say  to  you.  You  know  that 
the  pietists  and  priests  charge  me  with  being  a  heretic,  be- 
cause I  do  not  think  as  they  think,  and  believe  as  they  be- 
lieve. Which  of  them,  think  you,  Jordan,  has  the  true 
faith?  What  is  truth,  and  what  is  wisdom?  Each  sect  be- 
lieves itself — and  itself  alone — the  possessor  of  both.  That 
is  reason  enough,  it  appears  to  me,  for  doubting  them  all." 

- '  In  the  same  land  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  various  places  in  the  same  *ity,  we  are  taught 
entirely  different  and  opposing  doctrines  in  the  name  of 
religion.  On  one  hand,  we  are  threatened  with  everlasting 
fire  in  the  company  of  the  devil  and  his  angels,  if  we  believe 
that  the  Almighty  is  bodily  present  in  the  elements  offered  at 
the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  supper.  On  the  other  hand, 
we  are  taught,  with  equal  assurance,  that  the  same  terrible 
punishment  will  be  awarded  us  unless  we  believe  that  God  is 
literally,  and  not  symbolically,  present  in  the  bread  and 
wine.  The  simple  statement  of  the  doctrines  of  the  different 
churches  in  the  world  would  fill  an  endless  number  of  folios. 
Each  religion  condemns  all  others,  as  leading  to  perdition; 
they  cannot  therefore  all  be  true,  for  truth  does  not  contra- 
dict itself.  If  any  one  of  these  were  the  true  faith,  would 
not  God  have  made  it  clear,  and  without  question,  to  our 
eyes?  God,  who  is  truth,  cannot  be  dark  or  doubtful!  If 
these  differences  in  religion  related  only  to  outward  forms 
and  ceremonies,  we  would  let  them  pass  as  agreeable  and 
innocent  changes,  even  as  we  adopt  contentedly  the  changes 
in  style  and  fashion  of  our  clothing.  The  doctrines  of  faith, 
as  taught  in  England,  cannot  be  made  to  harmonize  with 
tJiose  fulminated  at  Eome.    He  to  whom  it  would  be  given 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       27 

to  reconcile  all  opposing  doctrines,  and  to  unite  all, hearts 
in  one  pure  and  simple  faith  would  indeed  give  peace  to  the 
world,  and  be  a  Messiah  and  a  Saviour." 

"Yes,  he  would  accomplish  what  God  himself,  as  it  ap- 
pears, has  not  thought  proper  to  do ;  his  first  great  act  must 
be  to  institute  and  carry  out  a  terrible  massacre,  in  which 
every  priest  of  every  existing  religion  must  be  pursued  to 
the  death." 

"And  that  is  precisely  my  mission,"  said  the  king.  "I 
will  institute  a  massacre,  not  bodily  and  bloodily,  but  soul- 
piercing  and  purifying.  I  say  to  you,  Jordan,  God  dwells 
not  in  the  churches  of  these  imperious  priests,  who  choose  to 
call  themselves  the  servants  of  God.  God  was  with  Moses 
on  Mount  Sinai,  and  with  Zoroaster  in  the  wilderness;  he 
was  by  Dante's  side  as  he  wrote  his  '  Divina  Commedia,' 
and  he  piloted  the  ships  of  Columbus  as  he  went  out  bravely 
to  seek  a  new  world!  God  is  everywhere,  and  that  man- 
kind should  reverence  and  believe  in  and  worship  him,  is 
proved  by  their  bearing  his  image  and  their  high  calling." 

Jordan  seized  the  hand  of  the  king  and  pressed  it  en- 
thusiastically to  his  lips.  "  And  the  world  says  that  you  do 
not  believe  in  God,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  they  class  you  with  the 
unbelievers,  and  dare  to  preach  against  you,  and  slander  you 
from  the  pulpit." 

"  Yes,  as  I  do  not  adopt  their  dogmas,  I  am,  to  them,  a 
heretic,"  said  the  king  laughing ;  "  and  when  they  preach 
against  me,  it  proves  that  they  fear  me,  and  look  upon  me 
as  a  powerful  enemy.  The  enemy  of  the  priests  I  will  be  as 
long  as  I  live,  that  is  to  say,  of  those  arrogant  and  imperious 
men  who  are  wise  in  their  own  eyes,  and  despise  all  who  do 
not  agree  w'ith  them!  I  will  destroy  the  foundations  of  all 
these  different  churches,  with  their  different  dogmas.  I 
will  utterly  extinguish  them  by  a  universal  church,  in  which 
every  man  shall  worship  God  after  his  own  fashion.  The 
worship  of  God  should  be  the  only  object  of  every  church! 
All  these  different  doctrines,  which  they  cast  in  each  other*s 
teeth,  and  for  love  of  which  they  close  their  doors  against 
each  other,  shall  be  given  up.  I  will  open  all  their  churches, 
and  the  fresh,  pure  air  of  God  shall  purify  the  musty  build- 
ings.    I  will  build  a  temple,  a  great  illimitable  temple,  a 


28  BERLIN  AND   SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

second  Pantheon,  a  church  which  shall  unite  all  churches 
within  itself,  in  which  it  shall  be  granted  to  every  man  to 
have  his  own  altar,  and  adopt  his  own  religious  exercises. 
All  desire  to  worship  God;  every  man  shall  do  so  according 
to  his  conscience !  Look  you,  Jordan,  how  pathetically  they 
discourse  of  brotherly  love,  and  they  tear  each  other  to 
pieces!  Let  me  only  build  my  Pantheon,  and  then  will  all 
men,  in  truth,  become  brothers.  The  Jew  and  the  so-called 
heathen,  the  Mohammedan  and  the  Persian,  the  Calvinist 
and  the  Catholic,  the  Lutheran  and  the  Reformer — they  will 
all  gather  into  my  Pantheon,  to  worship  God ;  all  their  forms 
and  dogmas  will  simultaneously  fall  to  the  ground.  They 
will  believe  simply  in  one  God,  and  the  churches  of  all  these 
different  sects  will  soon  stand  empty  and  in  ruins."  * 

While  the  king  spoke,  his  countenance  was  illumined;  a 
noble  enthusiasm  fired  his  large  clear  eyes,  and  his  cheeks 
glowed  as  if  from  the  awakening  breath  of  some  new  internal 
light. 

Jordan's  glance  expressed  unspeakable  love,  but  at  the 
same  time  he  looked  so  sad,  so  pained,  that  Frederick  felt 
chilled  and  restrained. 

"  How,  Jordan !  you  are  not  of  my  opinion  ? "  said  he, 
with  surprise.  "  Our  souls,  which  have  been  always  hereto- 
fore in  union,  are  now  apart.  You  do  not  approve  of  my 
Pantheon?" 

"  It  is  too  exalted,  sire,  to  be  realized.  Mankind  require 
a  form  of  religion,  in  order  not  to  lose  all  personal  control." 

"  No,  you  mistake.  They  require  only  God,  only  love 
for  this  exalted  and  lofty  Being,  whom  we  call  God.  The 
only  proof  by  which  we  can  know  that  we  can  sincerely  love 
God,  lies  in  a  steadfast  and  strong  purpose  to  obey  Him. 
According  to  this,  we  need  no  other  religion  than  our  rea- 
son, the  good  gift  of  God.  So  soon  as  we  know  that  He  has 
spoken,  we  should  be  silent  and  submissive.  Our  inward 
worship  of  God  should  consist  in  this,  that  we  acknowledge 
Him  and  confess  our  sins;  our  outward  worship  in  the  per- 
formance of  all  our  duties,  according  to  our  reason,  the  ex- 
alted nature  of  God,  and  our  entire  dependence  upon  Him." 

*  Thiebault,  in  his  "  Souvenirs  de  Vingt  Ans,"  tells  of  Frederick's  plan 
for  a  Pantheon. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       29 

"  It  is  to  be  regretted,  sire,  that  this  world  is  not  sufii- 
cieutly  enlightened  to  comprehend  you.  I  am  afraid  that 
your  majesty  will  bring  about  exactly  the  opposite  of  that 
which  you  design.  All  these  religious  sects  which,  as  you 
say,  are  so  entirely  antagonistic,  would  by  this  forced  union 
feel  themselves  humiliated  and  trampled  upon;  their  hatred 
toward  each  other  would  be  daily  augmented;  their  antipa- 
thies would  find  new  food;  and  their  religious  zeal,  which  is 
always  exclusive,  would  burn  with  fiercer  fury.  Not  only 
the  priests,  but  kings  and  princes,  would  look  upon  the  car- 
rying out  of  your  plan  with  horror.  And  shall  not  this 
daring  step  bring  terror  into  the  cabinets  of  kings?  A  mon- 
arch, who  has  just  drawn  the  eyes  of  all  politicians  upon  him- 
self, now  proposes  to  take  charge  of  the  consciences  of  his 
subjects,  and  bow  them  to  his  will!  Alas,  how  would  envy, 
with  all  her  poisonous  serpents,  fasten  upon  the  triumphal 
car  of  a  king  who,  by  the  great  things  he  has  already 
achieved,  had  given  assurance  of  yet  greater  results,  and  now 
stoops  to  tyrannize  over  and  oppress  the  weak  and  good, 
and  cast  them  among  the  ruins  of  their  temples  of  worship 
to  weep  and  lament  in  despair !  No,  my  king,  this  idea  of  a 
Pantheon,  a  universal  house  of  worship,  can  never  be  real- 
ized. It  was  a  great  and  sublime  thought,  but  not  a  wise 
one;  too  great,  too  enlarged  and  liberal  to  be  appreciated  by 
this  pitiable  world.  Your  majesty  will  forgive  me  for  hav- 
ing spoken  the  honest  truth.  I  was  forced  to  speak.  Like 
my  king,  I  love  the  one  only  and  true  God,  and  God  is 
truth." 

"  You  have  done  well,  Jordan,"  said  the  king,  after  a 
long  pause,  during  which  he  raised  his  eyes  thoughtfully 
toward  heaven.  "  Yes,  you  have  done  well,  and  I  believe 
you  are  right  in  your  objections  to  my  Pantheon.  I  offer  up 
to  you,  therefore,  my  favorite  idea.  For  your  dear  sake, 
my  Pantheon  shall  become  a  ruin.  Let  this  be  a  proof  of  the 
strong  love  I  bear  you,  Jordan.  I  will  not  contend  with  the 
priests  in  my  church,  but  I  will  pursue  them  without  falter- 
ing into  their  own ;  and  I  say  to  you,  this  will  be  a  long  and 
stiff-necked  war,  which  will  last  while  my  life  endures.  I 
will  not  have  my  people  blinded  and  stupefied  by  priests, 
I  will  suffer  no  other  king  in  Prussia.     I  alone  will  be  king. 


80  BEBLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

These  proud  priests  may  decide,  in  silence  and  humility,  to 
teach  their  churches  and  intercede  for  them;  but  let  them 
once  attempt  to  play  the  role  of  small  popes,  and  to  exalt 
themselves  as  the  only  possessors  of  the  key  to  heaven,  then 
they  shall  find  in  me  an  adversary  who  will  prove  to  them 
that  the  key  is  false  with  which  they  shut  up  the  Holiest  of 
Holies,  and  is  but  used  by  them  as  a  means  to  rob  the  people 
of  their  worldly  goods.  Light  and  truth  shall  be  the  device 
of  my  whole  land.  This  will  I  seek  after,  and  by  this  will  I 
govern  Prussia.  I  will  have  no  blinded  subjects,  no  super- 
stitious, conscience-stricken,  trembling,  priest-ridden  slaves. 
My  people  shall  learn  to  think;  thought  shall  be  free  as  the 
wanton  air  in  Prussia;  no  censor  or  police  shall  limit  her 
boundary.  The  thoughts  of  men  should  be  like  the  life- 
giving  and  beautifying  sun,  all-nourishing  and  all-enlighten- 
ing ;  calling  into  existence  and  fructifying,  not  only  the  rich, 
and  rare,  and  lovely,  but  also  the  noxious  and  poisonous 
plant  and  the  creeping  worm.  These  have  also  the  right 
of  life:  if  left  to  themselves,  they  soon  die  of  their  own 
insignificance  or  nothingness — die  imder  the  contempt  of  all 
the  good  and  great." 

"  I  fear,"  said  Jordan,  "  that  Frederick  the  Great  is  the 
only  man  whose  mind  is  so  liberal  and  so  unprejudiced.  Be- 
lieve me,  my  king,  there  is  no  living  sovereign  in  Europe 
who  dares  guarantee  to  his  subjects  free  thought  and  free 
speech." 

"I  will  try  so  to  act  as  to  leave  nothing  to  fear  from 
the  largest  liberty  of  thought  or  speech,"  said  the  king, 
quietly.  "Men  may  think  and  say  of  me  what  they  will — 
that  troubles  me  not;  I  will  amuse  myself  v/ith  their  slan- 
ders and  accusations  of  heresy;  as  for  their  applause — ^well, 
that  is  a  cheap  merchandise,  which  I  must  share  with  every 
expert  magician  and  every  popular  comedian.  The  applause 
of  my  own  conscience,  and  of  my  friends — thy  applause,  my 
Jordan — is  alone  of  value  for  me.  Then,"  said  he,  earnestly, 
almost  solemnly,  "  above  all  things,  I  covet  fame.  My  name 
shall  not  pass  away  like  a  soft  tone  or  a  sweet  melody.  I 
will  write  it  in  golden  letters  on  the  tablet  of  history;  it 
shall  glitter  like  a  star  in  the  firmament;  when  centuries 
have  passed  away,  my  people  shall  remember  me,  and  shall 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.      31 

say,  *  Frederick  the  Second  made  Prussia  great,  aud  en- 
larged her  borders;  he  was  a  father  who  loved  his  people 
more  than  he  did  himself,  and  cheerfully  sacrificed  his  own 
rest  and  comfort  in  their  service,  he  was  a  teacher  who  spoke 
to  them  by  word  of  mouth,  and  gave  liberty  to  their  souls.' 
Oh,  Jordan,  you  must  stand  by  me  and  help  me  to  reach  this 
great  goal  for  which  I  thirst.  Eemain  with  me,  dear  friend, 
remain  ever  by  my  side,  and  with  thy  love,  thy  constancy, 
thy  truth,  and  thy  sincerity,  help  me  to  establish  what  is 
good,  and  to  punish  the  evil;  to  acknowledge  and  promote 
what  is  noble  and  expose  the  unworthy  to  shame  and  con- 
fusion. Oh,  Jordan!  God  has  perhaps  called  me  to  be  a 
great  king;  remain  by  me,  and  help  me  to  be  a  good  and 
simple-minded  man." 

He  threw  himself  with  impetuosity  on  Jordan's  breast, 
and  clasped  him  passionately  in  his  arms.  _  Jordan  returned 
the  king's  embrace,  and  silently  raised  his  moist  eyes  to 
heaven.  A  prayer  to  "  Our  Father  "  spoke  in  that  eloquent 
eye,  a  heart-felt,  glowing  prayer  for  this  man  now  resting 
upon  his  bosom,  and  who  for  him  was  not  the  all-powerful 
and  commanding  sovereign,  but  the  noble,  loving,  and  be- 
loved friend,  this  poet  and  philosopher,  before  whose  mightj' 
genius  his  whole  soul  bowed  in  wonder  and  admiration;  but 
suddenly,  in  this  moment  of  deep  and  pious  emotion,  a  cold, 
an  icy  chill,  seemed  to  shiver  and  play  like  the  breath  of 
death  over  his  features,  and  the  hot  blood,  like  liquid  metal, 
rushed  madly  through  his  veins;  he  gave  a  light,  short 
cough;  with  a  quick,  abrupt  movement,  he  released  himself 
from  the  arms  of  the  king.  Withdrawing  a  few  steps,  he 
turned  away,  and  pressed  his  handkerchief  to  his  lips. 

"Jordan,  you  suffer,  you  are  sick,"  said  the  king,  anx- 
iously. 

Jordan  turned  again  to  him ;  his  face  was  calm,  and  even 
gay;  his  eyes  beamed  with  that  strange,  mysterious,  and 
touching  fire  of  consumption  which  hides  the  shadow  of 
death  under  the  rosy  lip  and  glowing  cheek;  and,  less  cruel 
than  all  other  maladies,  leaves  to  the  soul  its  freshness,  and 
to  the  heart  its  power  to  love  and  hope. 

"  l^ot  so,  sire,"  said  Jordan,  "  I  do  not  suffer.  How  can 
I  be  otherwise  than  well  and  happy  in  your  presence  ? "    As 


32  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

he  said  this  he  tried  to  thrust  his  handkerchief  in  his 
pocket. 

The  king  looked  earnestly  at  this  handkerchief-  "Jor- 
dan, why  did  you  press  that  handkerchief  so  hastily  to  jour 
lips?" 

"Jordan  forced  a  smile.  "Well,"  said  he,  "I  was 
obliged,  as  your  majesty  no  doubt  saw,  to  cough,  and  1  wished 
to  make  this  disagreeable  music  as  soft  as  possible." 

"  That  was  not  the  reason,"  said  Frederick ;  and,  step- 
ping hastily  forward,  he  seized  the  handkerchief.  "  Blood ! 
it  is  drenched  in  blood,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  so  full  of  anguish, 
that  it  was  evident  he  recognized  and  feared  this  fatal  signal. 

"Well,  yes,  it  is  blood;  your  majesty  sees  I  am  blood- 
thirsty! Unhappily,  I  do  not  shed  the  blood  of  your  ene- 
mies, but  my  own,  which  I  would  gladly  give,  drop  by  drop, 
if  I  could  thereby  save  my  king  one  hour's  suffering  or  care." 

"  And  yet  you,  Jordan,  are  now  the  cause  of  my  bitterest 
grief.  You  are  ill,  and  you  conceal  it  from  me.  You  suffer, 
and  force  yourself  to  seem  gay,  and  hide  your  danger  from 
me,  in  place  of  turning  to  my  physicians  and  demanding 
their  counsel  and  aid." 

"  Frederick  the  Wise  once  said  to  me,  *  Physicians  are 
but  quacks  and  charlatans,  and  a  man  gives  himself  up  to  a 
tedious  suicide  who  swallows  their  prescriptions.' " 

"  'No,  it  was  not '  Frederick  the  Wise,'  but '  Frederick  the 
Fool,'  who  uttered  that  folly.  When  the  sun  is  shining, 
Frederick  has  no  fear  of  ghosts ;  but  at  the  turn  of  midnight, 
he  will  breathe  a  silent  'Father  in  heaven,'  to  be  protected 
from  them.  We  have  no  use  for  confidence  in  physicians 
when  we  are  healthy;  when  we  are  ill  we  need  them,  and 
then  we  begin  to  hold  them  in  consideration.  You  are  ill, 
your  breast  suffers.  I  entreat  you,  Jordan,  to  call  upon  my 
physician,  and  to  follow  his  advice  promptly  and  systematic- 
ally.    I  demand  this  as  a  proof  of  your  friendship." 

"  I  will  obey  your  majesty,  immediately,"  said  Jordan, 
who  now  found  himself  completely  overcome  by  the  weak- 
ness which  follows  loss  of  blood;  trembling,  and  almost 
sinking,  he  leaned  upon  the  table.  Frederick  perceived  this, 
and  rolling  forward  his  own  arm-chair,  with  loving  and  ten- 
der care,  he  placed  Jordan  within  it.    He  called  bis  servant, 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       33 

and  ordered  him  to  roll  the  chair  to  Jordan's  room,  and  go 
instantly  for  the  physician  Ellertt. 

"  It  will  be  all  in  vain,  and  I  shall  lose  him,"  murmured 
the  king.  "  Yes,  I  will  lose  him,  as  I  have  lost  Suhm,  and  as 
I  shall  soon  lose  my  Caesarius,  the  good  Kaiserling.  Alas! 
why  did  God  give  me  so  warm  a  heart  for  friendship,  and 
then  deprive  me  of  my  friends  ?  " 

Folding  his  arms,  he  stepped  to  the  window  and  gazed 
thoughtfully  and  sadly  into  the  garden  below,  but  he  saw  not 
its  bloom  and  beauty;  his  eyes  were  turned  inward,  and  he 
saw  only  the  grave  of  his  friend.  Suddenly  rousing  and 
conquering  himself,  he  shook  off  the  weary  spirit  of  melan- 
choly, and  sought  comfort  in  his  flute,  the  faithful  com- 
panion of  all  his  sufferings  and  struggles. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  PARDONED   COURTIER. 

Frederick  commenced  again  to  play,  but  this  time  it  was 
not  an  adagio,  but  a  joyous  and  triumphant  allegro,  with 
which  he  sought  to  dispel  the  melancholy  and  quench  the 
tears  flowing  in  his  troubled  heart.  He  walked  backward 
and  forward  in  his  room,  and  from  time  to  time  stood  be- 
fore the  sofa  upon  which  his  graceful  greyhound,  Biche, 
was  quietly  resting.  Every  minute  the  king  passed  her  sofa, 
Biche  raised  her  beautiful  head  and  greeted  her  royal  friend 
with  an  intelligent  and  friendly  glance  and  a  gentle  wagging 
of  her  tail,  and  this  salutation  was  returned  each  time  by 
Frederick  before  he  passed  on.  Finally,  and  still  playing 
the  flute,  the  king  pressed  his  foot  upon  a  silver  button  in 
the  floor  of  his  room,  and  rang  a  bell  which  hung  in  Freders- 
dorf's  room,  immediately  under  his  own. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  secretary  entered,  but  stood 
quietly  at  the  door  till  the  king  had  finished  his  allegro  and 
laid  aside  his  flute. 

"  Good-morning,"  said  the  king,  and  he  looked  up  at  hia 


34  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OE, 

favorite  with  so  sharp  and  piercing  a  glance  that  Fredersdorf 
involuntarily  trembled,  and  cast  his  eyes  to  the  ground. 
"  You  must  have  been  long  wide  awake,  you  answer  the  bell 
so  quickly." 

"  Yes,  your  majesty,  I  have  been  long  awake.  I  am 
happy,  for  I  have  good  news  to  bring  you." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ? "  said  the  king  smiling.  "  Has  my 
god-mother,  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa,  voluntarily  sur- 
rendered to  the  Emperor  Charles  VII.?  Have  France  and 
England  become  reconciled?  or — and  that  seems  to  me  the 
most  probable — has  my  private  secretary  mastered  the  mys- 
tery of  gold-making,  after  which  he  has  so  long  striven,  and 
for  which  he  so  willingly  offers  up  the  most  costly  and  solemn 
sacrifices?  "  The  king  laid  so  peculiar  an  expression  upon  the 
word  sacrifice  that  Fredersdorf  wondered  if  he  had  not  lis- 
tened to  his  conversation  with  Joseph,  and  learned  the 
strange  sacrifice  which  they  now  proposed  to  offer  up  to  the 
devil's  shrine. 

"  Well,  tell  your  news  quickly,"  said  the  king.  "  You 
see  that  I  am  torturing  myself  with  the  most  wild  and  in- 
credible suppositions." 

"  Sire,  the  Barbarina  reached  Berlin  last  night." 

"  Truly,"  said  the  king,  indifferently,  "  so  we  have  at 
last  ravished  her  from  Venice,  and  Lord  Stuart  McKenzie." 

"  Not  exactly  so,  your  highness.  Lord  Stuart  McKenzie 
arrived  in  Berlin  this  morning." 

Frederick  frowned.  "  This  is  also,  as  it  appears,  a  case 
of  true  love,  and  may  end  in  a  silly  marriage.  I  am  not 
pleased  when  men  or  women  in  my  service  entertain  serious 
thoughts  of  love  or  marriage ;  it  occupies  their  thoughts  and 
interferes  with  the  performance  of  their  duty." 

"  Your  majesty  judges  severely,"  murmured  Fredersdorf, 
who  knew  full  well  that  this  remark  was  intended  for  his 
special  benefit. 

"  Well,  this  is  not  only  my  opinion,  but  I  act  in  conso- 
nance with  it.  I  allow  myself  no  relaxation.  Have  I 
ever  had  a  love-affair?  Perhaps,  Fredersdorf,  you  believe 
my  blood  to  be  frozen  like  ice  in  my  veins;  that  I  have  a 
heart  of  stone;  in  short,  that  I  ceased  to  be  a  man  when 
I  became  a  king." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.      36 

"  Not  so ;  but  I  believe  your  majesty  is  too  great  and  too 
exalted  to  find  any  one  worthy  of  your  love." 

"  Folly,  folly,  sheer  folly,  Fredersdorf !  When  a  man 
loves,  he  does  not  weigh  himself  in  the  scales  and  find  out 
how  many  pounds  of  worth  he  has;  he  only  loves,  and  for- 
gets all  other  earthly  things.  Xow,  for  myself,  I  dare  not 
forget  that  I  am  a  king,  and  that  my  time  and  strength  be- 
long to  my  people.  My  heart  is  too  tender,  and  for  this 
reason  I  fly  from  love.  So  should  you  also  flee,  you  also 
dare  not  forget  that  your  life  is  consecrated  to  your  king. 
The  Signora  Barbarina  shall  not  forget  that  she  is  in  my 
service;  dancing,  and  not  loving,  must  now  occupy  her 
thoughts  and  actions.  I  will  allow  her  flirtations  and 
amours,  but  a  true  love  I  absolutely  forbid.  How  can  she 
go  through  with  her  ballets,  her  pirouettes,  and  entre- 
chats guyly  and  gracefully  if  a  passionate  love  sits  enthroned 
within  her  heart  i  I  have  promised  the  English  ambassador, 
who  is  the  cousin  of  this  Lord  Stuart  McKenzie,  that  I  will 
separate  these  lovers.  At  this  moment  the  friendship  of 
England  is  of  much  importance  to  me,  and  I  shall  certainly 
keep  my  promise.  Write  immediately  to  the  director  of 
police  that  I  command  him  not  only  to  banish  Lord  McKen- 
zie from  Berlin,  but  to  send  him  imder  guard  to  Hamburg, 
and  there  place  him  upon  an  English  ship  bound  for  Eng- 
land. In  twelve  hours  he  must  leave  Berlin.*  Is  that  your 
only  news,  Fredersdorf  ?  " 

"  No,  sire,"  said  he,  stealing  a  glance  toward  the  door, 
which  at  this  moment  was  lightly  opened.  "  I  have  another 
novelty  to  announce,  but  I  do  not  know  whether  it  will  be 
acceptable  to  your  majesty.     Baron  von  Pollnitz — " 

"  Has  sent  us  the  announcement  of  his  marriage  ?  " 

"  Xo,  sire,  he  i^  not  married." 

At  this  moment,  the  Signora  Biche  began  to  bay  light 
notes  of  welcome,  and  raised  herself  up  from  her  comfort- 

*  This  order  was  obeved.  Lord  McKenzie,  the  tender  lover  of  the 
beautiful  B.irbarina,  who  Jiad  followed  her  from  Venice  to  Berlin,  was,  im- 
mediately on  his  arrival,  banished  from  Prussia  by  the  special  command  of 
the  king,  and  taken  to  Hamburg;  from  thence  he  addressed  some  passionate 
letters  to  his  beautiful  beloved,  which  she,  of  course,  never  received,  and 
which  are  preserved  in  the  royal  archives  at  Berlin.  (See  Schneider's  "  His- 
tory of  Operas.") 
8 


36  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

able  position  on  the  sofa.  The  king  did  not  remark  her, 
however;  he  was  wholly  occupied  with  Fredersdorf. 

"  How !  do  you  say  he  is  not  married  ?  " 

"  No,  he  has  not  married,"  said  a  plaintive  voice  from 
behind  the  door,  "  and  he  prays  your  majesty,  qf  your  great 
grace,  to  allow  him  to  dedicate  his  whole  life  to  his  royal 
master,  forgetting  all  other  men  and  women."  The  king 
turned  and  saw  his  former  master  of  ceremonies  kneeling 
before  the  door,  and  his  clasped  hands  stretched  out  im- 
ploringly before  him. 

Frederick  gave  a  hearty  peal  of  laughter,  while  Biche, 
raising  herself  with  a  joyful  bark,  sprang  toward  the  kneel- 
ing penitent,  and  capered  playfully  about  him ;  she  appeared 
indeed  to  be  licking  the  hand  in  which  the  sagacious  baron 
held  loosely  a  large  piece  of  her  favorite  chocolate.  At  first, 
the  king  laughed  heartily;  then,  as  he  remarked  how  ten- 
derly Biche  licked  the  hand  of  the  baron,  he  shook  his  head 
thoughtfully.  "  I  have  had  a  false  confidence  in  the  true 
instinct  of  my  little  Biche;  she  seems,  indeed,  to  welcome 
Pollnitz  joyfully;  while  a  sharp  bite  in  his  calf  is  the  only 
reception  which  his  wicked  and  faithless  heart  deserves." 

"  Happily,  sire,  my  heart  is  not  lodged  in  my  calves," 
said  Pollnitz.  "  The  wise  Biche  knows  that  the  heart  of 
Pollnitz  is  always  in  the  same  place,  and  that  love  to  my 
king  and  master  has  alone  brought  me  back  to  Berlin." 

"  Nonsense !  A  Pollnitz  can  feel  no  other  love  than  that 
which  he  cherishes  for  his  own  worthy  person,  and  the  purses 
of  all  others.  Let  him  explain  now,  quickly  and  without 
circumlocution,  if  he  really  wishes  my  pardon,  why,  after 
going  to  Nurnberg  to  marry  a  bag  of  gold,  containing  a  few 
millions,  he  has  now  returned  to  Berlin." 

"  Sire,  without  circumlocution,  the  bag  of  gold  would 
not  open  for  me,  and  would  not  scatter  its  treasures  accord- 
ing to  my  necessities  and  desires." 

"  Ah !  I  comprehend.  The  beautiful  Nurnberger  had 
heard  of  your  rare  talent  for  scattering  gold,  and  thought  it 
•wiser  to  lose  a  baron  of  the  realm  than  to  lose  her  millions." 

"Yes,  that's  about  it,  sire." 

"I  begin  to  have  a  great  respect  for  the  wisdom  of  this 
woman,"  said  Frederick,  laughing.    "  I  think  she  has  a  more 


FREDERICK   THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.      37 

reliable  instinct  than  my  poor  Biche,  who,  I  see,  still  licks 
your  hands."        ^ 

"  Oh,  Biche  knows  me  better  than  any  man,"  said  Poll- 
nitz,  tenderly  patting  the  greyhound.  "  Biche  knows  that 
my  heart  is  filled  with  but  one  love — love  to  my  king  and 
master.  She  knows  that  I  have  returned  to  lay  myself  as 
she  does,  in  all  humility  and  self-abandonment,  at  the  feet 
of  my  royal  Frederick,  to  receive  either  kicks  or  favors,  as 
he  may  see  fit  to  bestow  them;  to  be  equally  grateful  for 
the  bones  he  may  throw  to  me  in  his  pity,  as  for  the  costly 
viands  he  may  grant  in  the  magnanimity  of  his  great  soul." 

"  You  are  an  absolute  and  unqualified  fool,"  said  the 
king,  laughing,  "  and  if  it  was  not  against  my  conscience, 
and  unworthy  of  human  nature,  to  engage  a  man  as  a  per- 
petual buffoon,  I  would  promote  you  to  the  office  of  court 
fool.  '  You  might,  at  least,  serve  as  an  example  to  my  cava- 
liers, by  teaching  them  what  they  ought  to  avoid." 

"  I  have  merited  this  cruel  contempt,  this  painful  pun- 
ishment from  my  royal  master,"  said  PoUnitz.  "  I  submit 
silently.     I  will  not,  for  a  moment,  seek  to  justify  myself." 

"  You  do  well  in  that.  You  can  make  no  defence.  You 
left  my  service  faithlessly  and  heartlessly,  with  the  hope  of 
marrying  a  fortune.  The  marriage  failed,  and  you  come 
back  with  falsehood  in  your  heart  and  on  your  lips,  chatter- 
ing about  your  love  for  my  royal  house.  You  are  not 
ashamed  to  liken  yourself  to  a  hound,  and  to  howl  even  as 
they  do,  in  order  that  I  may  take  you  back  into  favor.  Do 
not  suppose,  for  one  moment,  that  I  am  deceived  by  these 
professions — if  you  could  have  done  better  for  yourself 
elsewhere,  you  would  not  have  returned  to  Berlin;  that  not 
being  the  case,  you  creep  back,  and  vow  that  love  alone  has 
constrained  you.  Look  you,  Pollnitz,  I  know  you,  I  know 
you  fully.  You  can  never  deceive  me ;  and,  most  assuredly, 
I  would  not  receive  you  again  into  my  service,  if  I  did  not 
look  upon  you  as  an  old  inventory  of  my  house,  an  inherit- 
ance from  my  grandfather  Frederick.  I  receive  you,  there- 
fore, out  of  consideration  for  the  dead  kings  in  whose  service 
you  were,  and  who  amused  themselves  with  your  follies; 
for  their  sakes  I  cannot  allow  you  to  hunger.  Think  not 
that  I  will  prepare  you  a  bed  of  down,  and  give  you  gold  to 


406613 


38  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOCCI;  OR, 

waste  in  idleness.  You  must  work  for  your  living,  even  as 
we  all  do.  I  grant  you  a  pension,  but  you  will  perform  your 
old  duty,  as  grand  master  of  ceremonies.  You  understand 
such  nonsense  better  than  I  do.  You  were  educated  in  a 
good  school,  and  studied  etiquette  from  the  foundation  stone, 
under  Prussia's  first  king ;  and  that  you  may  not  say  we  have 
overlooked  your  great  worth,  I  will  lay  yet  another  burden 
upon  your  shoulders,  and  make  you  '  master  of  the  wardrobe.' 
It  shall  not  be  said  of  us,  that  nonsense  and  folly  are  neg- 
lected at  our  court;  even  these  shall  have  their  tribute. 
You  shall  therefore  be  called  *  Master  of  the  Robes,'  but  I 
counsel  you,  yes,  I  warn  you,  never  to  interfere  with  my 
coats  and  shirts.  You  shall  have  no  opportunity  to  make 
a  gold-embroidered  monkey  of  me.  Etiquette  requires  that 
I  must  have  a  master  of  the  robes,  but  I  warn  you  to  interest 
yourself  in  all  other  things  rather  than  in  my  toilet." 

"  All  that  your  majesty  condescends  to  say,  is  written  in 
letters  of  flame  upon  my  heart." 

"  I  would  rather  suppose  upon  your  knees ;  they  must  in- 
deed burn  from  this  long  penance.  I  have  read  you  a  lec- 
ture, a  la  f agon  of  a  village  schoolmaster.  You  can  rise,  the 
lecture  is  over." 

Polluitz  rose  from  his  knees,  and,  straightening  himself, 
advanced  before  the  king,  and  made  one  of  those  low,  artistic 
bows,  which  he  understood  to  perfection.  "  When  does  your 
majesty  wish  that  I  should  enter  upon  my  duties  ? " 

"  To-day — at  this  moment.  Count  Tessin,  a  special  am- 
bassador from  Sweden,  has  just  arrived.  I  wish  to  give  him 
a  courtly  reception.  You  will  make  the  necessary  arrange- 
ments. Enter  at  once  upon  the  discharge  of  your  func- 
tions." 

"  I  suppose,  sire,  that  my  salary  also  commences  so  soon 
as  I  begin  the  discharge  of  my  duties  ?  " 

"I  said  nothing  about  a  salary.  I  promised  you  a  pen- 
sion; and,  not  wishing  to  maintain  you  in  absolute  idleness, 
I  lay  upon  you  these  absurd  and  trifling  duties." 

"  Shall  I  not,  then,  receive  two  pensions,  if  I  discharge 
the  two  functions  ?  "  said  Pollnitz,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  You  are  an  out-and-out  scoundrel,"  said  Frederick, 
'*  but  I  know  all  your  tricks.    I  shall  not  follow  my  father's 


PREDEKIOK   THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       ay 

example,  who  once  asked  you  how  much  it  required  to  main- 
tain worthily  a  cavalier  of  rank,  and  you  assured  him  that  a 
hundred  thousand  thalers  was  not  sufficient.  I  grant  you  a 
pension  of  two  thousand  thalers,  and  I  tell  you  it  must  suffice 
to  support  you  creditably.  Woe  to  you,  when  you  com- 
mence again  your  former  most  contemptible  and  miserable 
life!  woe  to  you,  when  you  again  forgot  to  distinguish  be- 
tween your  own  money  and  the  money  of  others!  I  assure 
you  that  I  will  never  again  pay  one  of  your  'debts.  And 
in  order  that  credulous  men  may  not  be  so  silly  as  to  lend 
you  money,  I  will  make  my  wishes  known  by  a  printed 
order,  and  impose  a  tax  of  fifty  thalers  upon  every  man 
silly  and  bold  enough  to  lend  you  money.  Are  you  con- 
tent with  this,  and  will  you  enter  my  service  upon  these 
terms  ? " 

"  Yes,  on  any  conditions  which  your  majestj^  shall  please 
to  lay  upon  me.  Biit  when,  in  spite  of  this  open  declaration 
of  your  majesty,  crazy  people  will  still  insist  upon  lending  me 
money,  you  will  admit,  sire,  in  short,  that  it  is  not  my  debt, 
and  I  cannot  be  called  upon  for  payment." 

"  I  will  take  such  precautions  that  no  one  will  be  foolish 
enough  to  lend  you  money.  1  will  have  it  pixblicly  an- 
nounced that  he  who  lends  you  money  shall  have  no  claim 
upon  you,  so  that 'to  lend  you  gold  is  to  give  you  gold,  and 
truly  in  such  a  way  as  to  spare  you  even  the  trouble  of 
tlianks.  I  will  have  this  trumpted  through  every  street. 
Are  you  still  content  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sire,  you  show  me  in  this  the  greatest  earthly  kind- 
ness ;  you  make  me  completely  irresponsible.  Woe  to  the 
fools  and  lunatics  who  are  mad  enough  to  lend  me  money  f 
From  this  time  onward,  I  shall  never  know  a  weary  or  list- 
less moment.  I  shall  have  alwaj's  the  cheering  and  inspiring 
occupation  of  winning  the  hearts  of  trusting  and  weak- 
minded  dunces,  and,  by  adroit  sleight-of-hand,  transferring 
the  gold  from  their  pockets  to  my  own." 

"  You  are  incorrigible,"  said  the  king.  "  I  doubt  if  all 
mankind  are  made  after  the  image  of  God.  I  think  many 
of  the  race  resemble  the  devil,  and  I  look  upon  you,  Pollnitz, 
as  a  tolerably  successful  portrait  of  his  satanic  majesty.  I 
don't  suppose  you  will  be  much  discomposed  by  this  opinion. 


40  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

I  imagine  you  look  upon  God  and  the  devil  in  very  much  the 
same  light." 

"Oh,  not  so,  your  majesty;  I  am  far  too  religious  to 
fall  into  such  errors." 

"  Yes,  you  are  too  religious ;  or,  rather  you  have  too 
many  religions.  To  which,  for  example,  do  you  now  profess 
to  belong  ? " 

"  Sire,  I  have  become  a  Protestant." 

"  From  conviction  ?  " 

"  So  long  as  I  believed  in  the  possibility  of  marrying 
several  millions — ^yes,  from  conviction.  These  millions 
would  have  made  me  happy,  and  surely  I  might  allow  myself 
to  become  a  Protestant  in  order  to  be  happy." 

"  Once  for  all,  how  many  times  have  you  changed  your 
religion  ?  "  said  the  king,  thoughtfully. 

"  Oh,  not  very  often,  sire !  I  am  forever  zealously  seek- 
ing after  the  true  faith,  and  so  long  as  I  do  not  find  that 
religion  which  makes  me  content  with  such  things  as  I  have, 
I  am  forced  to  change  in  justice  to  myself.  In  my  child- 
hood I  was  baptized  and  brought  up  a  Lutheran,  and  I  had 
nothing  against  it,  and  remained  in  that  communion  till  I 
went  to  Rome ;  there  I  saw  the  Holy  Father,  the  Pope,  per- 
form mass,  and  the  solemn  ceremony  roused  my  devotional 
feelings  to  such  a  height  that  I  became  a  Catholic  imme- 
diately. This  was,  however,  no  change  of  religion.  Up  to 
this  time  I  had  not  acted  for  myself;  so  the  Catholic  may  be 
justly  called  my  first  faith." 

"  Yes,  yes !  that  was  about  the  time  you  stole  your  dying 
bride's  diamonds  and  fled  from  France." 

"  Oh,  your  majesty,  that  is  a  wicked  invention  of  my  ene- 
mies, and  utterly  unfounded.  If  I  had  really  stolen  and  sold 
those  magnificent  brilliants — worth  half  a  million — from  my 
dying  love,  it  would  have  been  sufficient  to  assure  me  a  lux- 
urious life,  and  I  should  not  have  found  it  imperative  to  be- 
come a  Catholic." 

"  Ah,  you  confess,  then,  that  you  did  not  become  a  Cath- 
olic from  conviction,  but  in  order  to  obtain  the  favor  of  the 
cardinals  and  the  Pope  ?  " 

"  Nothing  escapes  the  quick  eye  of  your  majesty,  so  I 
will  not  dare  to  defend  myseK.    I  came  back  to  Berlin  then, 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       41 

a  Catholic,  and  the  ever-blessed  king  received  me  graciously. 
He  was  a  noble  and  a  pious  man,  and  my  soul  was  seized  with 
a  glowing  desire  to  imitate  him.  I  saw,  indeed,  how  little  I 
had  advanced  on  the  path  to  glory  by  becoming  a  Catholic! 
I  made  a  bold  resolve  and  entered  the  Reformed  Church." 

"  And  by  this  adroit  move  you  obtained  your  object :  you 
became  the  favorite  of  my  father  the  king.  As  he,  unhap- 
pily, can  show  you  no  further  favor,  it  is  no  longer  prudent  to 
be  a  reformer,  so  you  are  again  a  Lutheran — from  con- 
viction !  " 

"  Oh,  all  the  world  knows  the  great,  exalted,  and  unpreju- 
diced mind  of  our  young  king,"  said  Pollnitz.  "  It  is  to  him 
a  matter  of  supreme  indifference  what  religious  sect  a  man 
belongs  to,  so  he  adopts  that  faith  which  makes  him  a  brave, 
reliable,  and  serviceable  subject  of  his  king  and  his  father- 
land." 

Frederick  cast  a  dark  and  contemptuous  glance  at  him. 
"  You  are  a  miserable  mocker  and  despiser  of  all  holy  things ; 
you  belong  to  that  large  class  who,  not  from  convictions  of 
reason,  but  from  worldly-mindedness  and  licentiousness,  do 
not  believe  in  the  Christian  religion.  Such  men  can  never 
be  honest;  they  have,  perhaps,  from  their  childhood  been 
preached  to,  not  to  do  evil  from  fear  of  hell-fire ;  and  so  soon 
as  they  cease  to  believe  in  hell-fire,  they  give  themselves  up 
to  vice  without  remorse.  You  are  one  of  these  most  miser- 
able wretches;  and  I  say  to  you,  that  you  will  at  last  suffer 
the  torments  of  the  damned.  I  know  there  is  a  hell-fire,  but 
it  can  only  be  found  in  a  man's  conscience!  Now  go  and 
enter  at  once  upon  your  duties;  in  two  hours  I  will  receive 
Count  Tessin  in  the  palace  at  Berlin." 

Pollnitz  made  the  three  customary  bows  and  left  the  room. 
The  king  gazed  after  him  contemptuously.  "He  is  a  fin- 
ished scoundrel !  "  Then  turning  to  Fredersdorf ,  who  at 
that  moment  entered  the  room,  he  said,  "  I  believe  Pollnitz 
would  sell  his  mother  if  he  was  in  want  of  money.  You 
have  brought  me  back  a  charming  fellow;  I  rejoice  that 
there  are  no  more  of  the  race ;  Pollnitz  has  at  least  the  fame 
of  being  alone  in  his  style.  Is  there  any  one  else  who  asks 
an  audience  ? " 

"Yes,  sire,  the  antechamber  is  full,  and  every  njan  de- 


42  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OE, 

clares  that  his  complaint  can  only  be  made  personally  to 
your  majesty.  It  will  require  much  time  to  listen  to  all 
these  men,  and  would  be,  besides,  a  bad  example.  If  your 
majesty  receives  fifty  men  to-day,  a  hundred  will  demand 
audience  to-morrow;  they  must  therefore  be  put  aside; 
I  have  advised  them  all  to  make  their  wishes  known  in 
writing." 

"  Well,  I  think  every  man  knows  that  is  the  common 
mode  of  proceeding;  as  these  people  have  not  adopted  it,  it 
is  evident  they  prefer  speaking  to  me.  There  are  many 
things  which  can  be  better  said  than  written.  A  king  has 
no  right  to  close  his  ear  to  his  subjects.  A  ruler  should 
not  resemble  a  framed  and  curtained  picture  of  a  god,  only 
on  rare  and  solemn  occasions  to  be  stared  and  wondered  at ; 
he  must  be  to  his  people  what  the  domestic  altar  and  the 
household  god  was  to  the  Romans,  to  which  they  drew  near 
at  all  hours  with  consecrated  hearts  and  pious  memories. 
Here  they  made  known  all  their  cares,  their  sorrows,  and 
their  joys;  here  they  found  comfort  and  peace.  I  will 
never  withdraw  myself  from  my  subjects;  no,  I  will  be  the 
household  god  of  my  people,  and  will  lend  a  willing  ear  to 
all  their  prayers  and  complaints.  Turn  no  man  away,  Fre- 
dersdorf ;  I  will  announce  it  publicly,  that  every  man  has  the 
right  to  appeal  to  me  personally." 

"  My  king  is  great  and  good,"  said  Fredersdorf ,  sadly ; 
"every  man  but  myself  can  offer  his  petition  to  your  maj- 
esty and  hope  for  grace ;  the  king's  ear  is  closed  only  to  me ; 
to  my  entreaties  he  will  not  listen." 

"  Fredersdorf,  you  complain  that  I  will  not  give  my  con- 
sent to  your  marriage.  What  would  you?  I  love  you  too 
well  to  give  you  up;  but  when  you  take  a  wife  you  will  be 
forever  lost  to  me.  A  man  cannot  serve  two  masters,  and  I 
will  not  divide  your  heart  with  this  Mademoiselle  Daura; 
you  must  give  it  to  me  entire!  Do  not  call  me  cruel,  Fre- 
dersdorf; believe  that  I  love  you  and  cannot  give  you  up." 

"  Oh,  sire,  I  shall  only  truly  belong  to  you  in  love  and 
gratitude,  when  you  permit  me  to  be  happy  and  wed  the 
maiden  I  so  fondly  love." 

"  I  will  have  no  married  private  secretary,  nor  will  I 
have  a  married  secretary  of  state,"  said  the  king,  with  a 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       43 

dark  frowTi.  "  Say  not  another  word,  Fredersdorf ;  put 
these  thoughts  away  from  you  I  My  God,  there  are  so  many 
other  things  on  which  you  could  have  set  your  heart!  why 
must  it  be  ever  on  a  woman  ? " 

"  Because  I  love  her  passionately,  your  majesty." 

"  Ah,  bah !  do  you  not  love  other  things  with  which  you 
can  console  yourseK?  You  are  a  scholar  and  an  alchemist. 
Well,  then,  read  Horace;  exercise  yourself  in  the  art  of 
making  gold,  and  forget  this  Mademoiselle  Daum,  who,  be  it 
said,  in  confidence  between  us,  has  no  other  fascination 
than  that  she  is  rich.  As  to  her  wealth,  that  can  have  but 
•little  charm  for  you,  who,  without  doubt,  will  soon  have 
control  of  all  the  treasures  of  the  world.  By  God's  help,  or 
the  devil's,  you  will  very  soon,  I  suppose,  discover  the  secret 
of  making  gold." 

"  He  has,  indeed,  heard  my  conversation  with  Joseph," 
said  Fredersdorf  to  himself,  and  ashamed  and  confused,  he 
cast  his  eyes  down  before  the  laughing  glance  of  the  king. 

"  Read  your  Horace  diligently,"  said  Frederick — "  you 
know  he  is  also  my  favorite  author;  you  shall  learn  one  of 
his  beautiful  songs  by  heart,  and  repeat  it  to  me." 

The  king  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  and  cast,  from 
time  to  time,  a  piercing  glance  at  Fredersdorf.  He  then 
repeated  from  Horace  these  two  lines : 

" '  Torment  not  your  heart 

With  the  rich  offering  of  a  bleeding  lamb.'" 

"I  see  well,"  said  Fredersdorf,  completely  confused,  "I 
see  well  that  your  majesty  kno^vs — " 

"  That  it  is  high  time,"  said  the  king,  interrupting  him, 
"to  go  to  Berlin;  you  do  well  to  remind  me  of  it.  Order 
my  carriage — I  will  be  off  at  once." 


44  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

CHAPTER   V. 

HOW  THE  PRINCESS  ULRICA  BECAME  QUEEN  OP  SWEDEN, 

Princess  Ulrica,  the  eldest  of  the  two  unmarried  sistenj 
of  the  king,  paced  her  room  with  passionate  steps.  The 
king  had  just  made  the  queen-mother  a  visit,  and  had  com- 
manded that  his  two  sisters  should  be  present  at  the  inter- 
view. 

Frederick  was  gay  and  talkative.  He  told  them  that  the 
Signora  Barbarina  had  arrived,  and  would  appear  that  even- 
ing at  the  castle  theatre.  He  invited  his  mother  and  the  two 
princesses  to  be  present.  He  requested  them  to  make  taste- 
ful and  becoming  toilets,  and  to  be  bright  and  amiable  at  the 
ball  and  supper  after  the  theatre.  The  king  implored  them 
both  to  be  gay:  the  one,  in  order  to  show  that  she  was 
neither  angry  nor  jealous;  the  other,  that  she  was  proud 
and  happy. 

The  curiosity  of  the  two  young  girls  was  much  excited, 
and  they  urged  the  king  to  explain  his  mysterious  words. 
He  informed  them  that  Count  Tessin,  the  Swedish  ambassa- 
dor, would  be  present  at  the  ball;  that  he  was  sent  to  Ber- 
lin to  select  a  wife  for  the  prince  royal  of  Sweden,  or,  rather, 
to  receive  one;  the  choice,  it  appeared,  had  been  already 
made,  as  the  count  had  asked  the  king  if  he  might  make 
proposals  for  the  hand  of  the  Princess  Amelia,  or  if  she 
were  already  promised  in  marriage.  The  king  replied  that 
Ajnelia  was  bound-  by  no  contract,  and  that  proposals  from 
Sweden  would  be  graciously  received. 

"Be,  therefore,  lovely  and  attractive,"  said  the  king, 
placing  his  hand  caressingly  upon  the  rosy  cheek  of  his  little 
sister ;  "  prove  to  the  count  that  the  intellectual  brow  of 
my  sweet  sister  is  fitted  to  wear  a  crown  worthily." 

The  queen-mother  glanced  toward  the  window  into  which 
the  Princess  Ulrica  had  hastily  withdrawn. 

"  And  will  your  njajesty  really  consent  that  the  youngest 
of  my  daughters  shall  be  first  married  ? " 

The  king  followed  the  glance  of  his  mother,  and  saw  the 
frowning  brow  and  trembling  lip  of  his  sister.    Frederick 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.      45 

feared  to  increase  the  mortification  of  Ulrica,  and  seemed, 
therefore,  not  to  observe  her  withdrawal. 

"  I  think,"  said  he,  "  your  majesty  was  not  older  than 
Amelia  when  you  married  my  father;  and  if  the  crown 
prince  of  Sweden  wishes  to  marry  Amelia,  I  see  no  reason 
why  we  should  refuse  him.  Happily,  we  are  not  Jews,  and 
our  laws  do  not  forbid  the  younger  sister  to  marry  first.  To 
refuse  the  prince  the  hand  of  Amelia,  or  to  offer  him  the 
hand  of  Ulrica,  would  indicate  that  we  feared  the  latter 
might  remain  unsought.  I  think  my  lovely  and  talented 
sister  does  not  deserve  to  be  placed  in  such  a  mortifying 
position,  and  that  her  hand  will  be  eagerly  sought  by  other 
royal  wooers." 

"  And,  for  myself,  I  am  not  at  all  anxious  to  marry,"  said 
Ulrica,  throwing  her  head  back  proudly,  and  casting  a  half- 
contemptuous,  half -pitiful  look  at  Amelia.  "  I  have  no  wish 
to  marry.  Truly,  I  have  not  seen  many  happy  examples  of 
wedded  life  in  our  family.  All  my  sisters  are  unhappy, 
and  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  tread  the  same  thorny 
path." 

The  king  smiled.  "I  see  the  little  Ulrica  shares  my 
aversion  to  wedded  life,  but  we  cannot  expect,  dearest,  that 
all  the  world  should  be  equally  wise.  We  will,  therefore, 
allow  our  foolish  sister  Amelia  to  wed,  and  run  away  from 
us.  This  marriage  will  cost  her  anxiety  and  sorrow;  she 
must  not  only  place  her  little  feet  in  the  land  of  reindeers, 
bears,  and  eternal  snows,  but  she  must  also  be  baptized  and 
adopt  a  new  religion.  Let  us  thank  God,  then,  that  the 
prince  has  had  the  caprice  to  pass  you  by  and  choose  Amelia, 
who,  I  can  see,  is  resolved  to  be  married.  We  will,  there- 
fore, leave  the  foolish  child  to  her  fate." 

It  was  Frederick's  intention,  by  these  light  jests,  to  com- 
fort his  sister  Ulrica,  and  give  her  time  to  collect  herself. 
He  did  not  remark  that  his  words  had  a  most  painful  effect 
upon  his  younger  sister,  and  that  she  became  deadly  pale  as 
he  said  she  must  change  her  faith  in  order  to  become  prin- 
cess royal  of  SwedeB. 

The  proud  queen-mother  had  also  received  this  an- 
nouncement angrily.  "  I  think,  sire,"  said  she,  "  that  the 
daughter  of  William  the  Second,  and  the  sister  of  the  King 


46  BERLIN   AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OB, 

of  Prussia,  might  be  allowed  to  remain  true  to  the  faith  of 
her  fathers.'' 

"  Madame,''  said  the  king,  bowing  reverentially,  "  the 
question  is  not,  1  am  sorry  to  say,  as  to  Amelia's  father  or 
brother;  she  will  be  the  mother  of  sons,  who,  according  to 
the  law  of  tlie  land,  must  be  brought  up  in  the  religion  of 
their  father.  You  see,  then,  that  if  this  marriage  takes 
place,  one  of  the  two  contracting  parties  must  yield;  and, 
it  appears  to  me,  that  is  the  calling  and  the  duty  of  the 
woman." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  queen  bitterly,  "  you  have  been  edu- 
cated in  too  good  a  school,  and  are  too  thoroughly  a  Ilohen- 
zollern,  not  to  believe  in  the  complete  self-renunciation  of 
women.     At  this  court,  women  have  only  to  obey." 

"  Nevertheless,  the  women  do  rule  over  us ;  and  even 
when  we  appear  to  command,  we  are  submissive  and  obe- 
dient," said  the  king,  as  he  kissed  his  mother's  hand  and 
withdrew. 

The  three  ladies  also  retired  to  their  own  rooms  imme- 
diately. Each  one  was  too  much  occupied  with  her  own 
thoughts  to  bear  the  presence  of  another. 

And  now,  being  alone,  the  Princess  Ulrica  found  it  no 
longer  necessary  to  retain  the  smiles  which  she  had  so  long 
and  witlT  such  mighty  effort  forced  to  play  upon  her  lips; 
every  pulse  was  beating  with  glowing  rage,  and  she  gave  free 
course  to  her  scorn. 

Her  younger  sister,  this  little  maiden  of  eighteen  years, 
was  to  be  married,  to  wed  a  future  king;  while  she,  the 
eldest,  now  two-and-twenty,  remained  unchosen!  And  it  was 
not  her  own  disinclination  nor  the  will  of  the  king  which 
led  to  this  shameful  result;  no!  the  Swedish  ambassador 
came  not  to  seek  her  hand,  but  that  of  her  sister!  She,  the 
elder,  was  scorned — set  aside.  The  king  might  truthfully 
say  there  was  no  law  of  the  land  which  forbade  the  mar- 
riage of  the  younger  sister  before  the  elder;  but  there  was 
a  law  of  custom  and  of  propriety,  and  this  law  was  trampled 
upon. 

As  TTlrica  thought  over  these  things,  she  rose  from  her 
seat  with  one  wild  spring.  On  entering  the  room  she  had 
been  completely  overcome,  and,  with  trembling  knefes,  she 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       47 

had  fallen  upon  the  divan.  She  stood  now,  however,  like  a 
tigress  prepared  for  attack,  and  looking  for  the  enemy  she 
was  resolved  to  slay.  The  raging,  stormy  blood  of  the  Ho- 
henzollerns  was  aroused.  The  energy  and  pride  of  her 
mother  glowed  with  feverish  pulses  in  her  bosom.  She 
would  have  been  happy  to  find  an  enemy  opposed  to  her,  the 
waves  of  passion  rushing  through  her  veins  might  have  been 
assuaged;  but  she  was  alone,  entirely  alone,  and  had  no 
other  enemy  to  overcome  than  herself.  She  must,  then, 
declare  war  against  her  own  evil  heart.  With  wild  steps  she 
rushed  to  the  glass,  and  scrutinizingly  and  fiercely  examined 
her  own  image.  Her  eye  was  cold,  searching,  and  stern. 
Yes,  she  would  prove  herself;  she  would  know  if  it  were  any 
thing  in  her  own  outward  appearance  which  led  the  Swedish 
ambassador  to  choose  her  sister  rather  than  herself. 

"  It  is  true,  Amelia  is  more  beautiful,  in  the  common 
acceptation  of  the  word;  her  eyes  are  larger,  her  cheek 
rosier,  her  smile  more  fresh  and  youthful,  and  her  small  but 
graceful  figure  is  at  the  same  time  childlike  and  voluptuous. 
She  would  make  an  enchanting  shepherdess,  but  is  not  fitted 
to  be  a  queen.  She  has  no  majesty,  no  presence.  She  has 
not  by  nature  that  imposing  gravity,  which  is  the  gift  of 
Providence,  and  cannot  be  acquired,  and  without  which  the 
queen  is  sometimes  forgotten  in  the  woman.  Amelia  can 
never  attain  that  eternal  calm,  that  exalted  comijosure, 
which  checks  all  approach  to  familiarity,  and  which,  by  an 
almost  imperceptible  pressure  of  the  hand  and  a  light  smile, 
bestows  more  happiness  and  a  more  liberal  reward  than  the 
most  impassioned  tenderness  and  the  warmest  caresses  of  a 
commonplace  woman.  'No,  Amelia  could  never  make  a 
complete  queen,  she  can  only  be  a  beautiful  woman;  while 
I — I  know  that  I  am  less  lovely,  but  I  feel  that  I  am  born  to 
rule.  I  have  the  grace  and  figure  of  a  queen — ^yes,  I  have 
the  soul  of  a  queen!  I  would  understand  how  to  be  impos- 
ing, and,  at  the  same  time,  to  obtain  the  love  of  my  people, 
not  from  any  weak  thirst  for  love,  but  from  a  queenly  ambi- 
tion. But  I  ^m  set  aside,  and  Amelia  will  be  a  queen ;  my 
fate  will  be  that  of  my  elder  sisters,  I  shall  wed  a  poor  mar- 
grave, or  paltry  duke,  and  piay  indeed  thank  God  if  I  am  not 
an  old  maiden  princess,  with  a  small  pension." 


48  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

She  stamped  wildly  upon  the  floor,  and  paced  the  room 
with  hasty  steps.  Suddenly  she  grew  calmer,  her  brow, 
which  had  been  overshadowed  by  dark  clouds,  cleared,  and 
a  faint  smile  played  upon  those  lips  which  a  moment  before 
had  been  compressed  by  passion. 

"  After  all,"  she  said,  "  the  formal  demand  for  the  hand 
of  Amelia  has  not  yet  been  made;  perhaps  the  ambassador 
has  mistaken  my  name  for  that  of  Amelia,  and  as  he  has 
made  no  direct  proposition,  I  am  convinced  he  wishes  to 
make  some  observations  before  deciding.  Now,  if  the  result 
of  this  examination  should  prove  to  him  that  Amelia  is  not 
fitted  to  be  the  wife  of  his  prince,  and  if  Amelia  herself — 
I  thought  I  saw  that  she  turned  pale  as  the  king  spoke  of 
abandoning  her  faith;  and  when  she  left  the  room,  despair 
and  misery  were  written  upon  that  face  which  should  have 
glowed  with  pride  and  triumph.  Ah,  I  see  land ! "  said 
Ulrica,  breathing  freely  and  sinking  comfortably  upon  the 
divan,  "  I  am  no  longer  hopelessly  shipwrecked ;  I  have 
found  a  plank,  which  may  perhaps  save  me.  Let  me  con- 
sider calmly," — and,  as  if  Fate  itself  were  playing  into  her 
hand,  the  door  opened  and  Amelia  entered. 

One  glance  was  sufficient  to  show  Ulrica  that  she  was  not 
deceived,  and  that  this  important  event  had  brought  no  joy 
to  poor  Amelia.  The  lovely  eyes  of  the  princess  were  red 
with  weeping;  and  the  soft  lips,  so  generally  and  gladly 
given  to  gay  chat  and  merry  laughter,  were  now  expressive 
of  silent  anguish.  Ulrica  saw  all  this,  and  laid  her  plans  ac- 
cordingly. In  place  of  receiving  Amelia  coldly  and  re- 
pulsively, which  but  a  few  moments  before  she  would  have 
done,  she  sprang  to  meet  her  with  every  sign  of  heart-felt 
love;  the  little  maiden  threw Jierself  weeping  convulsively 
into  her  sister's  arms,  and  was  pressed  closely  and  tenderly 
to  her  bosom. 

"  Tears !  "  said  Ulrica  lovingly,  as  she  drew  her  sister  to 
the  sofa  and  pressed  her  down  upon  the  soft  pillows ;  "  you 
weep,  and  yet  a  splendid  future  is  this  day  secured  to  you ! " 

Amelia  sobbed  yet  more  loudly  and  pressed  her  tear- 
stained  face  more  closely  to  the  bosom  of  her  sister.  Ulrica 
looked  down  with  a  mixture  of  curiosity  and  triumph;  she 
could  not  understand  these  tears;  but  she  had  ^  secret  satis- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.      49 

faction  iu  seeing  the  person  she  most  envied  weeping  so 
bitterly. 

"  How  is  this  ?  are  you  not  happy  to  be  a  queen  ?  " 

Amelia  raised  her  face  hastily  and  sobbed  out :  "  No !  I 
am  not  pleased  to  be  an  apostate,  to  perjure  myself!  I  am 
not  content  to  deny  my  faith  in  order  to  buy  a  miserable 
earthly  crown !  I  have  sworn  to  be  true  to  my  God  and  my 
faith,  and  now  I  am  commanded  to  lay  it  aside  like  a  perish- 
able robe,  and  take  another  in  exchange." 

"  Ah,  is  it  that  ? "  said  Ulrica,  with  a  tone  of  contempt 
she  could  scarcely  control ;  "  you  fear  this  bold  step  by 
which  your  poor  innocent  soul  may  be  compromised." 

"  I  will  remain  true  to  the  belief  in  which  I  have  been 
educated,  and  to  which  I  have  dedicated  myself  at  the 
altar !  "  cried  Amelia,  bursting  again  into  tears. 

"  It  is  easy  to  see  that  but  a  short  time  only  has  elapsed 
since  you  took  these  vows  upon  you.  You  have  all  the  fa- 
naticism of  a  new  convert.  How  would  our  blessed  father 
rejoice  if  he  could  see  you  now ! " 

"  He  would  not  force  me  to  deny  my  religion ;  he  would 
not,  for  the  sake  of  outward  splendor,  endanger  my  soul's 
salvation.  Oh!  it  is  harsh  and  cruel  of  my  brother  to  treat 
me  as  a  piece  of  merchandise ;  he  asks  not  whether  my  heart 
or  principles  can  conscientiously  take  part  in  his  ambitious 
plans." 

Ulrica  cast  a  long  and  piercing  glance  upon  her  sister. 
She  would  gladly  have  searched  to  the  bottom  of  her  soul; 
she  wished  to  know  if  this  fierce  opposition  to  the  marriage 
was  the  result  of  love  to  the  faith  of  her  fathers. 

"  And  you  are  not  ambitious  ?  you  are  not  excited  by  the 
thought  of  being  a  queen,  of  marrying  a  man  who  will  fill 
a  place  in  the  world's  history  ?  " 

The  young  girl  raised  her  eyes  in  amazement,  and  her 
tears  ceased  to  flow. 

"  What  has  a  woman  to  do  with  the  world's  history  ? " 
she  said ;  "  think  you  I  care  to  be  named  as  the  wife  of  a 
king  of  Sweden?  It  is  a  sad,  unhappy  fate  to  be  a  princess. 
We  are  sold  to  him  who  makes  the  largest  offer  and  the  most 
favorable  conditions.  Well,  let  it  be  so ;  it  is  the  fate  of  all 
princesses;  it  is  for  this  we  are  educated,  and  must  bow 


60  BERLIN  AKD  SANS-SOUCl;  UM, 

humbly  to  the  yoke;  but  liberty  of  conscience  should  be  at 
least  allowed  us,  freedom  of  thought,  the  poor  consolation  of 
worshipping  God  in  the  manner  we  prefer,  and  of  seeking 
help  and  protection  in  the  arms  of  that  religion  we  believe 
in  and  love." 

"  One  can  be  faithful  to  God  even  when  unfaithful  to 
their  first  faith,"  said  Ulrica,  who  began  already  to  make 
excuses  to  herself  for  the  change  of  religion  she  contem- 
plated. 

"  That  is  not  in  my  power !  "  cried  Amelia  passionately. 
"  I  cling  to  the  religion  of  my  house,  and  I  should  tremble 
before  the  wrath  of  God  if  I  gave  it  up." 

"  Alter  all,  it  is  but  a  small  and  unimportant  difference 
between  the  Reformed  and  Lutheran  Churches,"  said  Ulrica, 
much  excited,  and  entirely  forgetting  that  the  question  had 
as  yet  no  relation  to  herself.  "  One  can  be  as  pious  a  Chris- 
tian in  the  Reformed  Church  as  in  the  Lutheran." 

"  Not  I ;  it  is  not  in  my  power,"  said  Amelia,  with  the 
wilfulness  of  a  spoiled  child  not  accustomed  to  opposition. 
"  I  will  not  become  a  Lutheran.  A  Pollnitz  may  change 
his  faith,  but  not  the  daughter  of  Frederick  William.  Did 
not  the  king  with  indignation  and  contempt  relate  to  us 
how  Pollnitz  had  again  changed  his  religion  and  become  a 
Protestant?  Did  we  not  laugh  heartily,  and  in  our  hearts 
despise  the  dishonorable  man?  I  will  not  place  myself  in 
such  a  position." 

"  Then,  my  sister,  there  will  be  stormy  times  and  stem 
strife  in  our  household:  the  bitter  scenes  of  earlier  days 
will  be  renewed.  Our  royal  brother  is  not  less  resolute  than 
our  stem  father.  I  fear  that  his  brothers  and  sisters  are 
nothing  more  to  him  than  useful  instruments  in  this  great 
state  machine,  and  they  must  bow  themselves  unquestion- 
ingly  to  his  commands." 

"  Yes,  I  feel  this ;  I  see  it  clearly,"  said  Amelia,  trem- 
bling; "and  for  this  reason,  dear  sister,  you  must  stand  by 
me  and  help  me.  I  swear  to  you  that  I  will  not  become  a 
Lutheran." 

"  Is  that  your  unchangeable  resolution  ?  " 

"  Yes,  unchangeable." 

*'  Well,  if  that  is  so,  I  will  give  you  my  counsel." 


PREDEEICK  THE   GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.      51 

"  Speak,  speak  quickly,"  said  Amelia,  breathlessly,  and 
throwing  her  arms  around  the  slender  waist  of  her  sister, 
she  laid  her  head  trustingly  upon  her  shoulder. 

"  Firstly,  the  Swedish  ambassador  has  not  made  a  formal 
demand  for  your  hand;  that  probably  proves  that  he  will 
first  examine  and  observe  you  closely,  to  see  if  you  are  suited 
to  be  the  wife  of  the  prince  royal.  We  have  still,  therefore, 
a  short  delay,  which,  if  wisely  used,  may  conduct  you  to 
the  desired  goal.  But,  Amelia,  prove  yourself  once  more; 
ask  counsel  again  of  your  heart  and  conscience,  before  you 
make  a  final  resolve.  I  will  not  have  you  complain  of  me  in 
future,  and  say  that  my  foolish  and  guilty  counsel  lost  you 
the  throne  of  Sweden." 

"  Oh,  fear  not,  my  beloved  sister.  I  will  not  be  queen  of 
Sweden  at  the  cost  of  my  immortal  soul." 

"  You  will  not,  then,  reproach  me,  Amelia  ? " 

"  Never." 

"  Listen,  then.  From  this  moment  lay  a  mask  upon  your 
face;  that  is  to  say,  assume  a  proud,  rude,  overbearing  tone 
to  all  around  you — toward  your  friends,  your  servants,  the 
court  circle,  yes,  even  toward  the  members  of  your  family. 
Particularly  in  the  presence  of  this  Swedish  ambassador, 
show  yourself  to  be  a  capricious,  nervous,  and  haughty  prin- 
cess, who  scarcely  thinks  it  worth  the  trouble  to  speak  a 
word,  or  give  a  friendly  glance,  to  a  man  in  his  position. 
When  you  speak  to  him  and  he  attempts  to  answer,  cut  short 
his  replies,  and  command  him  to  be  silent;  if  he  strives  to 
win  your  favor  by  the  most  respectful  civility,  let  an  im- 
mistakable  expression  of  contempt  be  written  upon  your  face, 
and  let  that  be  your  only  answer.  Regulate  your  conduct 
for  a  few  days  by  these  rules,  and  I  am  convinced  you  will 
attain  your  object." 

"  Yes,  yes !  I  understand,  I  understand !  "  said  the  young 
girl,  clapping  her  little  white  hands,  and  looking  up  joyously. 
"  I  shall,  by  my  pride  and  passion,  freeze  the  words  in  the 
mouth  of  my  lord  ambassador,  so  that  the  decisive  word  can- 
not find  utterance.  Oh!  this  will  be  a  precious  comedy, 
my  sweet  sister,  and  I  promise  you  to  carry  out  my  role  of 
heroine  to  perfection.  Oh,  I  thank  you!  I  thank  you! 
I  am  indeed  happy  to  have  found  so  wise  a  sister,  so 
4 


52  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

brave  a  comrade  in  arms,  while  surrounded  with  such 
perils ! " 

"  She  would  not  have  it  otherwise,"  said  Ulrica,  laconic- 
ally, as  she  found  herself  again  alone.  "  If  she  is  without 
ambition,  so  much  the  worse  for  her — so  much  the  better  for 
me !  And  now,  it  is  high  time  to  think  of  my  toilet — that  is 
the  most  important  consideration.  To-day  I  must  be  not 
only  amiable,  but  lovely.  To-day  I  will  appear  an  innocent 
and  unpretending  maiden." 

With  a  mocking  smile  she  entered  her  boudoir,  and 
called  her  attendants. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  TEMPTER. 

Princess  Ulrica  was  earnestly  occupied  with  considera- 
tions of  her  toilet.  Amelia  had  returned  to  her  room,  mus- 
ing and  thoughtful. 

There  were  difficulties  in  the  way  of  the  new  rdle  she 
had  resolved  to  play,  and  by  which  she  expected  to  deceive 
the  world.  She  stood  for  a  moment  before  the  door  of  her 
dressing-room,  and  listened  to  the  voices  of  her  attendants, 
who  were  gayly  laughing  and  talking.  It  was  her  custom  to 
join  them,  and  take  a  ready  part  in  their  merry  sports  and 
jests.  She  must  now,  however,  deny  herself,  and  put  a  guard 
over  her  heart  and  lips.  Accordingly,  with  a  dark  frown 
on  her  brow  and  tightly-compressed  lips,  she  entered  the 
room  in  which  her  maids  were  at  that  moment  arranging  her 
ball  toilet  for  the  evening. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  your  loud  talking  is  most  unseemly," 
said  Amelia,  in  a  tone  so  haughty,  so  passionate,  that  the 
smiles  of  the  two  young  girls  vanished  in  clouds.  "  I  will 
be  obliged  to  you  if  you  will  complete  your  work  noiselessly, 
and  reserve  your  folly  till  you  have  left  my  room!  And 
what  is  that.  Mademoiselle  Felicien?  for  what  purpose  have 
you  prepared  these  flowers,  which  I  see  lying  upon  your 
table?" 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       53 

"  Your  royal  highness,  these  flowers  are  for  your  coif- 
fure, and  these  bouquets  are  intended  to  festoon  your  dress." 

"  How  dare  you  allow  yourself  to  decide  upon  my  toilet, 
mademoiselle  ? " 

"  I  have  not  dared,"  said  Felicien,  tremblingly;  "your 
royal  highness  ordered  moss  roses  for  your  hair,  and  bou- 
quets of  the  same  for  your  bosom  and  your  robe." 

"  It  appears  to  me,"  said  Amelia,  imperiously,  "  that  to 
contradict  me,  and  at  the  same  time  assert  that  which  is 
false,  is,  to  say  the  least,  unbecoming  your  position.  I  am 
not  inclined  to  appear  in  the  toilet  of  a  gardener's  daughter. 
To  prove  this,  I  will  throw  these  flowers,  which  you  dare  to 
assert  I  ordered,  from  the  window;  with  their  strong  odor 
they  poison  the  air." 

With  a  cruel  hand,  she  gathered  up  the  lovely  roses,  and 
hastened  to  the  window.  "  Look,  mademoiselle,  these  are 
the  flowers  which  you  undertook  to  prepare  for  my  hair," 
said  Amelia,  with  well-assumed  scorn,  as  she  threw  the 
bouquet  into  the  garden  which  surrounded  the  castle  of 
Monbijou;  "look,  mademoiselle." 

Suddenly  the  princess  uttered  a  low  cry,  and  looked, 
blushing  painfully,  into  the  garden.  In  her  haste,  she  had 
not  remarked  that  two  gentlemen,  at  that  moment,  crossed 
the  great  court  which  led  to  the  principal  door  of  the  castle ;  ^ 
and  the  flowers  which  she  had  so  scornfully  rejected,  had 
struck  the  younger  and  taller  of  the  gentlemen  exactly  in 
the  face.  He  stood  completely  amazed,  and  looked  question- 
ingly  at  the  window  from  Avhich  this  curious  bomb  had  fallen. 
His  companion,  however,  laughed  aloud,  and  made  a  pro- 
found bow  to  the  princess,  who  still  stood,  blushing  and  em- 
barrassed, at  the  window. 

"  From  this  hour  I  boliovo  in  the  legend  of  the  Fairy  of 
the  Roses,"  said  the  elder  of  the  two  gentlemen,  who  was  in- 
deed no  other  than  Baron  Pollnitz.  "Yes,  princess,  I  be- 
lieve fully,  and  I  would  not  be  at  all  astonished  if  your 
highness  should  at  this  moment  flutter  from  the  window  in 
a  chariot  drawn  by  doves,  and  cast  another  shower  of  blos- 
soms in  the  face  of  my  friend." 

The  princess  had  found  time  to  recover  herself,  and  to 
remember  the  haughty  part  she  was  determined  to  play. 


54  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR. 

"I  hope,  baron,"  she  said,  sternly,  "you  will  not  allow 
yourself  to  suppose  it  was  my  purpose  to  throw  those  roses 
either  to  your  companion  or  yourself  ?  I  wished  only  to  get 
rid  of  them." 

She  shut  the  window  rudely  and  noisily,  and  commanded 
her  attendants  to  complete  her  toilet  at  once.  She  seated 
herself  sternly  before  the  glass,  and  ordered  her  French  maid 
to  cover  her  head  with  jewels  and  ribbons. 

The  two  gentlemen  still  stood  in  the  garden,  in  earnest 
conversation. 

"  This  is  assuredly  an  auspicious  omen,  my  friend,"  said 
Pollnitz  to  the  young  officer,  who  was  gazing  musingly  at  the 
roses  he  held  in  his  hand.  He  had  raised  his  eyes  from  the 
flbwers  to  the  window  at  which  the  lovely  form  of  the  prin- 
cess had,  for  a  few  moments,  appeared. 

"  Alas !  "  said  he,  sighing,  and  gazing  afar  off ;  "  she  is 
so  wonderfully  beautiful — so  lovely;  and  she  is  a  prin- 
cess ! " 

Pollnitz  laughed  heartily.  "  One  might  think  that  you  re^ 
gretted  that  fact!  Listen  to  me,  my  young  friend;  stand 
no  longer  here,  in  a  dream.  Come,  in  place  of  entering  the 
castle  immediately,  to  pay  our  respects  to  the  queen-mother, 
we  will  take  a  walk  through  the  garden,  that  you  may  allay 
your  raptures  and  recover  your  reason." 

He  took  the  arm  of  the  young  man,  and  drew  him  into  a 
shady,  private  pathway. 

"  Now,  my  dear  friend,  listen  to  me,  and  lay  to  heart  all 
that  I  say  to  you.  Accident,  or,  if  you  prefer  it.  Fate 
brought  us  together.  After  all,  it  seems  indeed  more  than 
an  accident.  I  had  just  returned  to  Berlin,  and  was  about 
to  pay  my  respects  to  the  queen-mother,  when  I  met  you, 
who  at  the  same  time  seek  an  audience,  in  order  to  commend 
yourself  to  her  royal  protection.  You  bear  a  letter  of  com- 
mendation from  my  old  friend,  Count  Lottum.  All  this,  of 
course,  excites  my  curiosity.  I  ask  your  name,  and  learn, 
to  my  astonishment,  that  you  are  young  Von  Trenck,  the 
son  of  the  woman  who  was  my  first  love,  and  who  made  me 
most  unhappy  by  not  returning  my  passion.  I  assure  you, 
it  produces  a  singular  sensation  to  meet  so  unexpectedly  the 
son  of  a  first  love,  whose  father,  alas  I  you  have  not  the  hap- 


FREDERICK  THE  tUtEAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       55 

piness  to  be.  I  feel  already  that  I  am  prepared  to  love  you 
as  foolishly  as  I  once  loved  your  fair  mother." 

"  I  will  not,  like  my  mother,  reject  your  vows,"  said  the 
young  officer,  smiling,  and  extending  his  hand  to  Pollnitz. 

"  I  hoped  as  much,"  said  Pollnitz ;  "  you  shall  find  a 
fond  father  in  me,  and  even  to-day  I  will  commence  my 
parental  duties.     In  the  first  place,  what  brings  you  here  ?  " 

"  To  make  my  fortune — to  become  a  general,  or  field- 
marshal,  if  possible,"  said  the  young  man,  laughing. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  nineteen." 

"You  wear  the  uniform  of  an  officer  of  the  life-guard; 
the  king  has,  therefore,  already  promoted  you  i " 

"  I  was  a  cadet  but  eight  days,"  said  Trenck,  proudly. 
"  My  step-father.  Count  Lottum,  came  with  me  from  Dant- 
zic,  and  presented  me  to  the  king.  His  majesty  received  me 
graciously,  and  remembered  well  that  I  had  received,  at  the 
examination  at  Konigsberg,  the  first  prize  from  his  hand." 

"  Go  on,  go  on,"  said  Pollnitz ;  "  you  see  I  am  all  ear,  and 
I  must  know  your  present  position  in  order  to  be  useful  to 
you." 

"  The  king,  as  I  have  said,  received  me  graciously,  even 
kindly;  he  made  me  a  cadet  in  his  cavalry  corps,  and  three 
weeks  after,  I  was  summoned  before  him;  he  had  heard 
something  of  my  wonderful  memory,  and  he  wished  to  prove 
me." 

"  Well,  how  did  you  stand  the  proof  ?  " 

"  I  stood  with  the  king  at  the  window,  and  he  called  over 
to  me  quickly  the  names  of  fifty  soldiers  who  were  standing 
in  the  court  below,  pointing  to  each  man  as  he  called  his 
name.  I  then  repeated  to  him  every  name  in  the  same  suc- 
cession, but  backward." 

"  A  wonderful  memory,  indeed,"  said  Pollnitz,  taking  a 
pinch  of  Spanish  snuff;  "a  terrible  memory,  which  would 
make  me  shudder  if  I  were  your  sweetheart !  " 

"  And  why  ? "  said  the  young  officer. 

"  Because  you  would  hold  ever  in  remembrance  all  her 
caprices  and  all  her  oaths,  and  one  day,  when  she  no  longer 
loved  you,  she  would  be  held  to  a  strict  account.  Well,  did 
the  king  subject  you  to  further  proof? " 


56  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  Yes ;  he  gave  me  the  material  for  two  letters,  which  I 
dictated  at  the  same  time  to  his  secretaries,  one  in  French 
and  one  in  Latin.  He  then  commanded  me  to  draw  the 
plan  of  the  Hare  Meadow,  and  I  did  so." 

"  Was  he  pleased  ?  " 

"  He  made  me  cornet  of  the  guard,"  said  Trenck,  modest- 
ly avoiding  a  more  direct  answer. 

"  I  see  you  are  in  high  favor :  in  three  weeks  you  are 
promoted  from  cadet  to  lieutenant!  quick  advancement, 
which  the  king,  no  doubt,  signalized  by  some  other  act  of 


grace 


2" 


"  He  sent  me  two  horses  from  his  stable,  and  when  I 
came  to  thank  him,  he  gave  me  a  purse  containing  two 
hundred  '  Fredericks.' " 

Pollnitz  gave  a  spring  backward.  "  Thunder !  you  are 
indeed  in  favor!  the  king  gives  you  presents!  Ah,  my 
young  friend,  I  would  protect  you,  but  it  seems  you  can 
patronize  me.  The  king  has  never  made  me  a  present. 
And  what  do  you  desire  to-day  of  the  queen-mother  ?  " 

"  As  I  am  now  a  lieutenant,  I  belong  to  the  court  circle, 
and  must  take  part  in  the  court  festivals.  So  the  king  com- 
manded me  to  pay  my  respects  to  the  queen-mother." 

"  Ah,  the  king  ordered  that  ? "  said  Pollnitz ;  "  truly, 
young  man,  the  king  must  destine  you  for  great  things — 
he  overloads  you  with  favors.  You  will  make  a  glittering 
career,  provided  you  are  wise  enough  to  escape  the  shoals 
and  quicksands  in  your  way.  I  can  tell  you,  there  will  be 
adroit  and  willing  hands  ready  to  cast  you  down ;  those  who 
are  in  favor  at  court  have  always  bitter  enemies." 

"  Yes,  I  am  aware  that  I  have  enemies,"  said  Trenck ; 
"  more  than  once  I  have  already  been  charged  with  being  a 
drunkard  and  a  rioter;  but  the  king,  happily,  only  laughed 
at  the  accusations." 

"  He  is  really  in  high  favor,  and  I  would  do  well  to  secure 
his  friendship,"  thought  Pollnitz ;  "  the  king  will  also  be 
pleased  with  me  if  I  am  kind  to  him.^'  He  held  out  his 
hand  to  the  young  officer,  and  said,  with  fatherly  tenderness : 
"  From  this  time  onward,  when  your  enemies  shall  please 
to  attack  you,  they  shall  not  find  you  alone;  they  will  find 
me  a  friend  ever  at  your  side.    You  are  the  son  of  the  only 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       57 

■woman  I  ever  loved — I  will  cherish  you  in  my  heart  as  my 
first-born !  " 

"  And  I  receive  you  as  my  father  with  my  whole  heart," 
said  Trenck ;  "  be  my  father,  my  friend,  and  my  counsellor." 

"  The  court  is  a  dangerous  and  slippery  stage,  upon 
which  a  young  and  inexperienced  man  may  lightly  slip,  un- 
less held  up  by  a  strong  arm.  Many  will  hate  you  because 
you  are  in  favor,  and  the  hate  of  many  is  like  the  sting  of 
hornets :  one  sting  is  not  fatal,  but  a  general  attack  some- 
times brings  death.  Make  use,  therefore,  of  your  sunshine, 
and  fix  yourself  strongly  in  an  immovable  position." 

"  The  great  question  is,  what  shall  be  my  first  step  to  se- 
cure it  ? " 

"  How !  you  ask  that  question,  and  you  are  nineteen  years 
old,  six  feet  high,  have  a  handsome  face,  a  splendid  figure, 
an  old,  renowned  name,  and  are  graciously  received  at  court  ? 
Ah!  youngster,  I  have  seen  many  arrive  at  the  highest 
honors  and  distinctions,  who  did  not  possess  half  your  glit- 
tering qualities.  If  you  use  the  right  means  at  the  right 
time,  you  cannot  fail  of  success." 

"  What  do  you  consider  the  best  means  ?  " 

"  The  admiration  and  favor  of  women !  You  must  gain 
the  love  of  powerful  and  influential  women.  Oh,  you  are 
terrified,  and  your  brow  is  clouded !  perhaps,  unhappily,  you 
are  already  in  love  ?  " 

"  No !  "  said  Frederick  von  Trenck,  violently.  "  I  have 
never  been  in  love.  I  dare  say  more  than  that:  I  have 
never  kissed  the  lips  of  a  Ap>man." 

Pollnitz  gazed  at  him  with  an  expression  of  indescribable 
amazement.  "  How !  "  said  he ;  "  you  are  nineteen,  and  as- 
sert that  you  have  never  embraced  a  woman  ? "  He  gave  a 
mocking  and  cynical  laugh. 

"  Ordinary  women  have  always  excited  my  disgust,"  said 
the  young  officer,  simply ;  "  and  until  this  day  I  have  never 
seen  a  woman  who  resembled  my  ideal." 

"  So,  then,  the  woman  with  whom  you  will  now  become 
enamored  will  receive  your  first  tender  vows  ?  " 

"  Yes,  even  so." 

"  And  you  wear  the  uniform  of  the  life-guard — you  are 
a  lieutenant !  "  cried  Pollnitz  with  tragical  pathos,  and  ex- 


58  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

tending  his  arms  toward  heaven.  "  But  how  ? — what  did 
you  say? — that  until  to-day  you  had  seen  no  woman  who 
approached  your  ideal  ?  " 

"  I  said  that." 

"And  to-day—?" 

"  Well,  it  seems  to  me,  we  have  both  seen  an  angel  to- 
day!— an  angel,  whom  you  have  wronged,  in  giving  her  the 
common  name  of  fairy." 

"  Aha !  the  Princess  Amelia,"  said  PoUnitz.  "  You  will 
love  this  young  maiden,  my  friend." 

"  Then,  indeed,  shall  I  be  most  unhappy !  She  is  a  royal 
princess,  and  my  love  must  ever  be  unrequited." 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?  who  told  you  that  this  little  Amelia 
was  only  a  princess?  I  tell  you  she  is  a  young  girl  with  a 
heart  of  fire.  Try  to  awake  her — she  only  sleeps !  A  happy 
event  has  already  greeted  you.  The  princess  has  fixed  your 
enraptured  gaze  upon  her  lovely  form,  by  throwing  or  rather 
shooting  roses  at  you.  Perhaps  the  god  of  Love  has  hidden 
his  arrow  in  a  rose.  You  thought  Amelia  had  only  pelted 
your  cheek  with  roses,  but  the  arrow  has  entered  your 
soul.  Try  your  luck,  young  man;  gain  the  love  of  the. 
king's  favorite  sister,  and  you  will  be  all-powerful." 

The  young  officer  looked  at  him  with  confused  and  misty 
eyes. 

"  You  do  not  dare  to  suggest,"  munnured  he,  "  that — " 

"  I  dare  to  say,"  cried  Pollnitz,  interrupting  him,  "  that 
you  are  in  favor  with  the  brother;  why  may  you  not  also 
gain  the  sister's  good  graces?  ^  say  further,  that  I  ^vill 
assist  you,  and  I  will  ever  be  at  your  side,  as  a  loving  friend 
and  a  sagacious  counsellor." 

"  Do  you  know,  baron,  that  your  wild  words  open  a  future 
to  my  view  before  which  my  brain  and  heart  are  reeling? 
How  shall  I  dare  to  love  a  princess,  and  seek  her  love  in  re- 
turn ? " 

"  As  to  the  first  point,  I  think  you  have  already  dared. 
As  to  the  second,  I  think  your  rare  beauty  and  wondrous  ac- 
complishments might  justify  such  pretensions." 

"  You  know  I  never  can  become  the  husband  of  a  prin- 
cess." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Pollnitz,  laughing  aloud;  "you 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       59 

are  as  innocent  as  a  girl  of  sixteen!  you  have  this  moment 
fallen  headlong  in  love,  and  begin  at  once  to  think  of  the 
possibility  of  marriage,  as  if  love  had  no  other  refuge  than 
marriage,  and  yet  I  think  I  have  read  that  the  god  of  Love 
and  the  god  of  Hymen  are  rarely  seen  together,  though 
brothers;  in  point  of  fact,  they  despise  and  flee  from  each 
other.  But  after  all,  young  man,  if  your  love  is  virtuous  and 
requires  the  priest's  blessing,  I  think  that  is  possible.  Only 
a  few  years  since  the  widowed  margravine,  the  aunt  of  the 
king,  married  the  Count  Hoditz.  What  the  king's  aunt  ac- 
complished, might  be  possible  to  the  king's  sister." 

"  Silence,  silence !  "  murmured  Frederick  von  Trenck ; 
"  your  wild  words  cloud  my  understanding  like  the  breath  of 
opium ;  they  make  me  mad,  drunk.  You  stand  near  me  like 
the  tempter,  showing  to  my  bewildered  eyes  more  than  all 
the  treasures  of  this  world,  and  saying,  'All  these  things  will 
I  give  thee ' ;  but  alas !  I  am  not  the  Messiah.  I  have  not 
the  courage  to  cast  down  and  trample  under  foot  your  devil- 
ish temptations.  My  whole  soul  springs  out  to  meet  them, 
and  shouts  for  joy.  Oh,  sir,  what  have  you  done  ?  You  have 
aroused  my  youth,  my  ambition,  my  passion;  you  have  filled 
my  veins  with  fire,  and  I  am  drunk  with  the  sweet  but  deadly 
poison  you  have  poured  into  my  ears." 

"  I  have  assured  you  that  I  will  be  your  father.  I  will 
lead  you,  and  at  the  right  moment  I  will  point  out  the  ob- 
stacles against  which  your  inexperienced  feet  might  stum- 
ble," sai(J  Pollnitz. 

The  stony-hearted  and  egotistical  old  courtier  felt  not  the 
least  pity  for  this  poor  young  man  into  whose  ear,  as  Trenck 
had  well  said,  he  was  pouring  this  fatal  poison.  Frederick 
von  Trenck,  the  favorite  of  the  king,  was'  iiothing  more  to 
him  than  a  ladder  by  which  he  hoped  to  mount.  He  took 
the  arm  of  the  young  ofiicer  and  endeavored  to  soothe  him 
with  cool  and  moderate  words,  exhorting  him  to  be  quiet  and 
reasonable.  They  turned  their  steps  toward  the  castle,  in 
t)rder  to  pay  their  respects  to  the  queen-mother.  The  hour 
of  audience  was  over,  and  the  two  gentlemen  lounged  arm 
in  arm  down  the  street. 

"  Let  us  go  toward  the  palace,"  said  Pollnitz.  "  I  think 
we  will  behold  a  rare  spectacle,  a  crowd  of  old  wigs  who  have 


60  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

disguised  themselves  as  savans.  To-day,  the  first  sitting 
of  the  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences  takes  place,  and  the 
celebrated  President  Maupertius  will  open  the  meeting  in 
the  name  of  the  king.  This  is  exactly  the  time  for  the 
renowned  worthies  to  leave  the  castle.  Let  us  go  and  wit- 
Qess  this  comical  show." 

The  two  gentlemen  found  it  impossible  to  carry  out  their 
plans.  A  mighty  crowd  of  men  advanced  upon  them  at  this 
moment,  and  compelled  them  to  stand  still.  Every  face  in 
the  vast  assemblage  was  expectant.  Certainly  some  rare 
exhibition  was  to  be  seen  in  the  circle  which  the  crowd  had 
left  open  in  their  midst.  There  were  merry  laughing  and 
jesting  and  questioning  amongst  each  other,  as  to  what  all 
this  could  mean,  and  what  proclamation  that  could  be  which 
the  drummer  had  just  read  in  the  palace  garden. 

"  It  will  be  repeated  here  in  a  moment,"  said  a  voice  from 
tb'  crowd,  which  increased  every  moment,  and  in  whose 
fierce  waves  Pollnitz  and  Trenck  were  forcibly  swallowed  up. 
Pressed,  pushed  onward  by  powerful  arms,  resistance  utterly 
in  vain,  the  two  companions  found  themselves  at  the  same 
moment  in  the  open  space  just  as  the  drummer  broke  into  the 
circle,  and,  playing  his  drumsticks  with  powerful  and  zeal- 
ous hands,  he  called  the  crowd  to  order. 

The  drum  overpowered  the  wild  outcries  and  rude  laugh- 
ter of  the  vast  assemblage,  and  soon  silenced  them  complete- 
ly. Every  man  held  his  breath  to  hear  what  the  public  crier, 
who  had  spoken  so  much  to  the  purpose  by  his  drum,  had 
now  to  declare  by  word  of  mouth.  He  drew  from  his  pocket 
a  large  document  sealed  with  the  state  seal,  and  took  advan- 
tage of  the  general  quiet  to  read  the  formal  introductory  to 
all  such  proclamations :  "  We,  Frederick,  King  of  Prussia," 
etc.,  etc. 

On  coming  to  the  throne,  Frederick  had  abolished  all  that 
long  and  absurd  list  of  titles  and  dignities  which  had  hereto- 
fore adorned  the  royal  declarations.  Even  that  highest  of  all 
titles,  "  King  by  the  grace  of  God,"  had  Frederick  the  Second 
set  aside.  He  declared  that,  in  saying  King  of  Prussia,  all 
was  said.  His  father  had  called  himself  King  of  Prussia,  by 
the  grace  of  God;  he,  therefore,  would  call  himself  simply 
the  King  of  Prussia,  and  if  he  did  not  boast  of  God's  grace, 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.      61 

it  was  because  he  would  prove  by  deeds,  not  words,  that  he 
possessed  it. 

^After  this  little  digression  we  will  return  to  our  drummer, 
who  now  began  to  read,  or  rather  to  cry  out  the  command  of 
the  king. 

"  We,  Frederick,  King  of  Prussia,  order  and  command 
that  no  one  of  our  subjects  shall,  under  any  circvimstances, 
lend  gold  to  our  master  of  ceremonies,  whom  we  have  again 
taken  into  our  service,  or  assist  him  in  any  way  to  borrow 
money.  Whoever,  therefore,  shall,  in  despite  of  this  procla- 
mation, lend  money  to  said  Baron  Pollnitz,  must  bear  the 
consequences;  they  shall  make  no  demand  for  repayment, 
and  the  case  shall  not  be  considered  in  court.  Whosoever 
shall  disobey  this  command,  shall  pay  a  fine  of  fifty  thalers, 
or  suffer  fifteen  days'  imprisonment." 

A  wild  shout  of  laughter  from  the  entire  assembly  was 
the  reply  to  this  proclamation,  in  which  the  worldly-wise 
Pollnitz  joined  heartily,  while  his  young  companion  had 
not  the  courage  to  raise  his  eyes  from  the  ground. 

"  The  old  courtier  will  burst  with  rage,"  said  a  gay  voice 
from  the  crowd. 

"  He  is  a  desperate  borrower,"  cried  another. 

"  He  has  richly  deserved  this  public  shame  and  humilia- 
tion from  the  king,"  said  another. 

"  And  you  call  this  a  humiliation,  a  merited  punish- 
tnent ! "  cried  Pollnitz.  "  Why,  my  good  friends,  can  you 
not  see  that  this  is  an  honor  which  the  king  shows  to  his 
old  and  faithful  servant?  Do  you  not  know  that  by  this 
proclamation  he  places  Baron  Pollnitz  exactly  on  the  same 
footing  with  the  princes  of  the  blood,  with  the  prince 
royal?" 

"  How  is  that  ?  explain  that  to  us,"  cried  a  hundred 
voices  in  a  breath. 

"  Well,  it  is  very  simple.  Has  not  the  king  recently  re- 
newed the  law  which  forbids,  under  pain  of  heavy  punish- 
ment, the  princes  of  the  blood  to  borrow  money?  Is  not 
this  law  printed  in  our  journals,  and  made  public  in  our  col- 
lections of  laws  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes !  so  it  is,"  said  many  voices  simultaneously. 

"  Well,  certainly,  our  exalted  sovereign,  who  loves  his 


62  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCl ;  OK, 

royal  brothers  so  warmly,  would  not  have  cast  shame  upon 
their  honor.  Certainly  he  would  not  have  wished  to  humil- 
iate them,  and  has  not  done  so.  The  king,  as  you  must  n^ow 
plainly  perceive,  has  acted  toward  Baron  Pollnitz  precisely 
as  he  has  done  to  his  brothers." 

"  And  that  is,  without  doubt,  a  great  honor  for  him," 
cried  many  voices.  Xo  one  guessed  the  name  of  the  speaker 
who  was  so  fortunately  at  hand  to  defend  the  honor  of  the 
master  of  ceremonies.  A  general  murmur  of  applause  was 
heard,  and  even  the  public  crier  stood  still  and  listened  to 
the  eloquent  unknown  speaker,  and  forgot  for  a  while  to 
hurry  off  to  the  next  street-comer  and  proclaim  the  royal 
mandate. 

"  Besides,  this  law  is  '  sans  consequence,^  as  we  are  ac- 
customed to  say,"  said  Pollnitz.  "  Who  would  not,  in  spite 
of  the  law,  lend  our  princes  gold  if  they  had  need  of  it? 
And  who  has  right  to  take  offence  if  the  state  refuses  to  pay 
the  debts  which  the  princes  make  as  private  persons?  The 
baron  occupies  precisely  the  same  position.  The  king,  who 
has  honored  the  newly  returned  baron  with  two  highly  im- 
portant trusts,  master  of  ceremonies  and  master  of  the 
robes,  will  frighten  his  rather  lavish  old  friend  from  making 
debts.  He  chooses,  therefore,  the  same  means  by  which 
he  seeks  to  restrain  his  royal  brothers,  and  forbids  all  per- 
sons to  lend  gold  to  Pollnitz:  as  he  cannot  well  place  this 
edict  in  the  laws  of  the  land,  he  is  obliged  to  make  it  known* 
by  the  drummer.  And  now,"  said  the  speaker,  who  saw 
plainly  the  favorable  impression  which  his  little  oration  had 
made — "  and  now,  best  of  friends,  I  pray  you  to  make  way 
and  allow  me  to  pass  through  the  crowd;  1  must  go  at  once 
to  the  palace  to  thank  his  majesty  for  the  special  grace  and 
distinction  which  he  has  showered  upon  me  to-day.  I,  my- 
self, am  Baron  Pollnitz !  " 

An  outcry  of  amazement  burst  from  the  lips  of  hundreds, 
and  all  who  stood  near  Pollnitz  stepped  aside  reverentially, 
in  order  to  give  place  to  the  distinguished  gentleman  who 
was  treated  by  the  king  exactlj-  as  if  he  were  a  prince  of  the 
blood.  Pollnitz  stepped  with  a  friendly  smile  through  th«^ 
narrow  way  thus  opened  for  him,  and  greeted,  with  his  cool, 
impertinent  manner  those  who  respectfully  stood  back. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       63 

"  I  think  I  have  given  the  king  a  Roland  for  his  Oliver," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  I  have  broken  the  point  from  the 
arrow  which  was  aimed  at  me,  and  it  glanced  from  my  bosom 
without  wounding  me.  Public  opinion  will  be  on  my  side 
from  this  time,  and  that  which  was  intended  for  my  shame 
has  crowned  me  with  honor.  It  was,  nevertheless,  a  harsh 
and  cruel  act,  for  which  I  will  one  day  hold  a  reckoning-  with 
Frederick.  Ah,  King  Frederick!  King  Frederick!  I  shall 
not  forget,  and  I  will  have  my  revenge;  my  cards  are  also 
well  arranged,  and  I  hold  important  trumps.  I  will  wait 
yet  a  little  while  upon  our  lovelorn  shepherd,  this  innocent 
and  tender  Trenck,  who  is  in  a  dangerous  way  about  the 
little  princess." 

PoUnitz  waited  for  Trenck,  who  had  with  difficulty  forced 
his  way  through  the  crowd  and  hastened  after  him. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE  FIRST  INTERVIEW. 

The  ball  at  the  palace  was  opened.  The  two  queens  and 
the  princesses  had  just  entered  the  great  saloon,  in  order 
to  receive  the  respectful  greetings  of  the  ladies  of  the  court ; 
while  the  king,  in  an  adjoining  room,  was  surrounded  by 
the  gentlemen.  A  glittering  circle  of  lovely  women,  adorned 
with  diamonds  and  other  rich  gems,  stood  on  each  side  of 
the  room,  each  one  patiently  awaiting  the  moment  when 
the  queens  should  pass  before  her,  and  she  might  have  the 
honor  of  bowing  almost  to  the  earth  under  the  glance  of  the 
royal  eye. 

According  to  etiquette,  Queen  Elizabeth  Christine,  who, 
notwithstanding  her  modest  and  retired  existence,  was  the 
reigning  sovereign,  should  have  made  the  grand  tour  alone, 
and  received  the  first  congratulations  of  the  court;  but  this 
unhappy,  shrinking  woman,  had  never  found  the  courage 
to  assume  the  rights  or  privileges  which  belonged  to  her 
as  wife  of  the  king.     She  who  was  denied  the  highest  and 


64  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

holiest  of  all  distinctions,  the  first  place  in  the  heart  of  her 
husband,  cared  nothing  for  these  pitiful  and  outward  ad- 
vantages. Elizabeth  had  to-day,  as  usual,  with  a  soft  smile, 
given  precedence  to  the  queen-mother,  Sophia  Dorothea, 
who  was  ever  thirsting  to  show  that  she  held  the  first  place 
at  her  son's  court,  and  who,  delighted  to  surround  herself 
with  all  the  accessories  of  pomp  and  power,  was  ever  ready 
to  use  her  prerogative.  With  a  proud  and  erect  head,  and 
an  almost  contemptuous  smile,  she  walked  slowly  around 
the  circle  of  high-born  dames,  who  bowed  humbly  before 
this  representative  of  royalty.  Benind  her  came  the  reign- 
ing queen,  between  the  two  princesses,  who  now  and  then 
gave  special  and  cordial  greetings  to  their  personal  friends 
as  they  passed.  Elizabeth  Christine  saw  this  and  sighed 
bitterly.  She  had  no  personal  friend  to  grace  with  a  loving 
greeting.  No  man  saw  any  thing  else  in  her  than  a  sov- 
ereign by  sufferance,  a  woman  sans  consequence,  a  powerless 
queen  and  unbeloved  wife.  She  had  never  had  a  friend 
into  whose  sympathetic  and  silent  bosom  she  could  pour  out 
her  griefs.  She  was  alone,  so  entirely  alone  and  lonely, 
that  the  heavy  sighs  and  complaints  dwelling  in  her  heart 
were  ever  reverberating  in  her  ears  because  of  the  surround- 
ing silence.  And  now,  as  she  made  the  grand  tour  with  the 
two  princesses,  no  one  seemed  to  see  her;  she  was  regarded 
as  the  statue  of  a  queen,  richly  dressed  and  decked  with 
costly  lace  and  jewels,  but  only  a  picture :  yet  this  picture 
had  a  soul  and  a  heart  of  fire — it  was  a  woman,  a  wife,  who 
loved  and  who  endured. 

Suddenly  she  trembled;  a  light,  like  the  glory  of  sun- 
shine, flashed  in  her  eyes,  and  a  soft  rosy  blush  spread  over 
her  fair  cheek.  The  king  had  entered  the  room;  yes,  he 
was  there  in  all  his  beauty,  his  majesty,  his  power;  Eliza- 
beth felt  that  the  world  was  bright,  her  blood  was  rushing 
madly  through  her  veins,  her  heart  was  beating  as  stormily 
as  that  of  an  impassioned  young  girl.  Oh,  it  might  be  that 
the  eye  of  the  king — that  glowing,  wondrous  eye — might 
even  by  accident  rest  upon  her;  it  might  be  that  Frederick 
would  be  touched  by  her  patient  endurance,  her  silent  resig- 
nation, and  give  hor  one  friendly  word.  She  had  been  four 
years  a  queen,  for  four  years  this  title  had  been  a  crown  of 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       65 

thorns;  during  all  this  weary  time  her  husband  had  not 
vouchsafed  to  her  poor  heart,  sick  unto  death,  one  single 
sympathetic  word,  one  affectionate  glance;  he  sat  by  her 
side  at  the  table  during  the  court  festivals;  he  had  from 
time  to  time,  at  the  balls  and  masquerades,  opened  the 
dance  with  her;  never,  however,  since  that  day  on  which  he 
had  printed  the  first  kiss  upon  her  lips,  never  had  he  spoken 
to  her;  since  that  moment  she  was  to  him  the  picture  of  a 
queen,  the  empty  form  of  a  woman.*  But  Queen  Elizabeth 
would  not  despair.  Hope  was  her  motto.  A  day  might 
come  when  he  would  speak  to  her,  when  he  would  forget  that 
she  had  been  forced  upon  him  as  his  wife,  a  day  when  his  heart 
might  be  touched  by  her  grief,  her  silent  and  tearless  love. 
Every  meeting  with  Frederick  was  to  this  poor  queen  a 
time  of  hope,  of  joyful  expectation;  this  alone  sustained 
her,  this  gave  her  strength  silently,  even  smilingly,  to  draw 
her  royal  robe  over  her  bleeding  heart. 

And  now  the  king  drew  near,  surrounded  by  the  prin- 
cesses and  the  queen-mother,  to  whom  he  gave  his  hand  with 
an  expression  of  reverence  and  filial  love.  He  then  bowed 
silently  and  indifferently  to  his  wife,  and  gave  a  merry 
greeting  to  his  two  sisters. 

"  Ladies,"  said  he,  in  a  full,  rich  voice,  "  allow  me  to 
present  to  you  and  my  court  my  brother,  the  Prince  Augus- 
tus William ;  he  is  now  placed  before  you  in  a  new  and  more 
distinguished  light."  He  took  the  hand  of  his  brother  and 
led  him  to  the  queen-mother.  "  I  introduce  your  son  to 
you;  he  will  be  from  this  day  onward,  if  it  so  please  you, 
also  your  grandson." 

*  The  king  never  spoke  to  his  wife,  but  his  manner  toward  her  was  con- 
siderate and  respectful ;  no  one  dared  to  fail  in  the  slightest  mark  of  courtly 
observance  toward  Elizabeth — this  the  king  sternly  exacted.  Only  once  did 
the  king  address  her.  During  the  seventh  year  of  their  marriage,  the  queen, 
by  an  unhappy  accident,  had  seriously  injured  her  foot:  this  was  a  short  time 
before  her  birthday,  which  event  was  always  celebrated  with  great  pomp  and 
ceremony,  the  king  honoring  the. /<-'<«  with  his  presence.  On  this  occasion  he 
came  as  usual,  but  in  place  of  the  di.stant  and  silent  bow  with  which  lie  usually 
greeted  her,  he  drew  near,  gave  her  his  hand,  and  sai<l  with  kindly  sympathy, 
"  I  sincerely  hope  that  your  majesty  has  recovered  from  your  accident."  A 
general  surprise  was  pictured  in  the  faces  of  all  present — but  the  poor  queen 
was  so  overcome  by  this  unexpected  happiness,  she  had  no  power  to  reply, 
she  bowed  silently.  The  king  frowned  and  turned  from  her.  Since  that 
day,  the  happiness  of  which  she  had  bought  with  an  injured  foot,  the  king 
bad  not  spoken  to  her. 


60  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

"  How  is  that,  your  majesty?  I  confess  you  have  brought 
about  many  seemingly  impossible  things;  but  I  think  it  is 
beyond  your  power  to  make  Augustus  at  the  same  time 
both  my  son  and  my  grandson." 

"  Ah,  mother,  if  I  make  him  my  son,  will  he  not  be  of 
necessity,  your  grandson?  I  appoint  him  my  successor;  in 
so  doing,  I  declare  him  my  son.  Embrace  him,  therefore, 
your  majesty,  and  be  the  first  to  greet  him  by  his  new  title. 
Embrace  the  Prince  of  Prussia,  my  successor." 

"  I  obey,"  said  the  queen,  "  I  obey,"  and  she  cast  her  arms 
affectionately  around  her  son.  "  I  pray  God  that  this  title 
of  '  Prince  of  Prussia,'  which  it  has  pleased  your  majesty  to 
lend  him,  may  be  long  and  honorably  worn." 

The  prince  bowed  low  before  his  mother,  who  tenderly 
kissed  his  brow,  then  whispered,  "  Oh,  mother,  pray  rather 
that  God  may  soon  release  me  from  this  burden." 

"  How !  "  cried  the  queen  threateningly,  "  you  have  then 
a  strong  desire  to  be  king?  Has  your  vaulting  ambition 
made  you  forget  that  to  wish  to  be  king  is,  at  the  same  time, 
to  wish  the  death  of  your  brother  ? " 

The  prince  smiled  sadly. 

"  Mother,  I  would  lay  aside  this  rank  of  Prince  of  Prus- 
sia, not  because  I  wish  to  mount  the  throne,  but  I  would 
fain  lie  down  in  the  cold  and  quiet  grave." 

"  Are  you  always  so  sad,  so  hopeless,  my  son — even 
now,  upon  this  day  of  proud  distinction  for  you?  To-day 
you  take  your  place  as  Prince  of  Prussia." 

"  Yes,  your  majesty,  to-day  I  am  crowned  with  honor," 
said  he,  bitterly.  "  This  is  also  the  anniversary  of  my 
betrothal." 

Augustus  turned  and  drew  near  to  the  king,  who  seized 
his  hand  and  led  him  to  his  wife  and  the  young  princesses, 
saying  with  a  loud  voice,  "  Congratulate  the  Prince  of 
Prussia,  ladies."  He  then  beckoned  to  some  of  his  generals, 
and  drew  back  with  them  to  the  window.  As  he  passed 
the  queen,  his  eye  rested  upon  her  for  a  moment  with  an 
expression  of  sympathy  and  curiosity;  he  observed  her 
with  the  searching  glance  of  a  physician,  who  sinks  the  probe 
into  the  bleeding  wound  in  order  to  know  its  depth  and 
danger. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.      67 

The  queen  understood  his  purpose.  That  piercing  glance 
was  a  warning;  it  gave  her  courage,  self-possession,  and 
proud  resignation.  Her  husband  had  spoken  to  her  with  his 
eyes;  that  must  ever  be  a  consolation,  a  painful  but  sweet 
joy.  She  controlled  herself  so  far  as  to  give  her  hand  to 
the  prince  with  a  cordial  smile. 

"  You  are  most  welcome  in  your  double  character,"  she 
said,  in  a  voice  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  king  and  all 
arotind  her.  "  Until  to-day,  you  have  been  my  beloved 
brother;  and  from  this  time  will  you  be  to  me,  as  also  to  my 
husband,  a  dear  son.  By  the  decrees  of  Providence  a  son 
has  been  denied  me;  I  accept  you,  therefore,  joyfully,  and 
receive  you  as  my  son  and  brother." 

A  profound  silence  followed  these  words ;  here  and  there 
in  the  crowd,  slight  and  derisive  smiles  were  seen,  and  a  few 
whispered  and  significant  words  were  uttered.  The  queen 
had  now  received  the  last  and  severest  blow;  in  the  fulness 
and  maturity  of  her  beauty  she  had  been  placed  before  the 
court  as  unworthy  or  incapable  of  giving  a  successor  to  the 
throne ;  but  she  still  wished  to  save  appearances :  she-  would, 
if  possible,  make  the  world  believe  that  the  decree  of  Provi- 
dence alone  denied  to  her  a  mother's  honors.  She  had  the 
cruel  courage  to  conceal  the  truth  by  prevarication. 

The  watchful  eyes  of  the  court  had  long  since  discovered 
the  mystery  of  this  royal  marriage :  they  hqd  long  known 
that  the  queen  was  not  the  wife  of  Frederick;  her  words, 
therefore,  produced  contemptuous  surprise. 

Elizabeth  cared  for  none  of  these  things.  She  looked 
toward  her  husband,  whose  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her;  she 
would  read  in  his  countenance  if  he  were  pleased  with  her 
words.  A  smile  played  upon  the  lips  of  the  king,  and  he 
bowed  his  head  almost  imperceptibly  as  a  greeting  to  his 
wife. 

A  golden  ray  of  sunlight  seemed  to  play  upon  her  face; 
content  was  written  in  her  eyes ;  twice  to-day  her  glance  had 
met  her  husband's,  and  both  times  his  eyes  had  spoken. 
Elizabeth  was  happier  than  she  had  been  for  many  days; 
she  laughed  and  jested  with  the  ladies,  and  conversed  gayly 
over  the  great  event  of  the  evening — the  first  appearance  of 
the  Signora  Barbarina.  The  princesses,  also,  conversed  un- 
5 


68  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

ceremoniously  with  the  ladies  near  them.  A  cloud  darkened 
the  usually  clear  brow  of  the  Princess  Amelia,  and  she 
seemed  to  be  in  a  nervous  and  highly  excited  state. 

At  this  moment  the  master  of  ceremonies,  Pollnitz,  drew 
near,  with  Count  Tessin,  the  Swedish  ambassador.  The 
princess  immediately  assumed  so  scornful  an  expression, 
that  even  Pollnitz  scarcely  found  courage  to  present  Count 
Tessin. 

"  Ah !  you  come  from  Sweden,"  said  Amelia,  immediate- 
ly after  the  presentation.  "  Sweden  is  a  dark  and  gloomy 
country,  and  you  have  indeed  done  well  to  save  yourself,  by 
taking  refuge  in  our  gay  and  sunny  clime." 

The  count  was  evidently  wounded. 

"  Your  royal  highness  calls  this  a  refuge,"  said  he ; 
"you  must,  then,  think  those  to  be  pitied  who  dwell  in  my 
fatherland?" 

"  I  do  not  feel  it  necessary  to  confide  my  views  on  that 
subject  to  Count  Tessin,"  said  Amelia,  with  a  short,  rude 
laugh. 

"  Yes,  sister,  it  is  necessary,"  said  Ulrica,  with  a  magical 
smile,  "  you  must  justify  yourself  to  the  count,  for  you  have 
cast  contempt  upon  his  country." 

"  Ah !  your  highness  is  pleased  to  think  better  of  my 
fatherland,"  said  Tessin,  bowing  low  to  Ulrica.  "  It  is  true, 
Sweden  is  rich  in  beauty,  and  nowhere  is  nature  more  ro- 
mantic or  more  lovely.  The  Swedes  love  their  country 
passionately,  and,  like  the  Swiss,  they  die  of  homesickness 
when  banished  from  her  borders.  They  languish  and  pine 
away  if  one  is  cruel  enough  to  think  lightly  of  their  birth- 
place." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  commit  this  cruelty,"  cried  Amelia,  "  and 
yet  I  scarcely  think  you  will  languish  and  pine  away  on 
that  account." 

"  Dear  sister,  I  think  you  are  out  of  temper  to-day,"  said 
Ulrica,  softly. 

"  And  you  are  wise  to  remind  me  of  it  in  this  courtly 
style,"  said  Amelia ;  "  have  you  taken  the  rdle  of  governess 
for  my  benefit  to-day  ?  " 

Ulrica  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  turned  again  to  the 
count,  who  was  watching  the  young  Amelia  with  a  mixture 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       69 

of  astonishment  and  anger.  She  had  been  represented  at 
the  Swedish  court  as  a  model  of  gentleness,  amiability,  and 
grace ;  he  found  her  rude  and  contradictory,  fitful  and  child- 
ish. The  Princess  Ulrica  soon  led  the  thoughts  of  the 
count  in  another  direction,  and  managed  to  retain  him  at 
her  side  by  her  piquant  and  intellectual  conversation;  she 
brought  every  power  of  her  mind  into  action;  she  was 
gracious  in  the  extreme;  she  overcame  her  proud  nature, 
and  assumed  a  winning  gentleness;  in  short,  she  flattered 
the  ambassador  with  such  delicate  refinement,  that  he  swal- 
lowed the  magical  food  offered  to  his  vanity,  without  sus- 
pecting that  he  was  victimized. 

Neither  the  princess  nor  the  count  seemed  any  longer 
to  remember  Amelia,  who  still  stood  near  them  with  a  lower- 
ing visage.  Pollnitz  made  use  of  this  opportunity  to  draw 
near  with  his  young  protege,  Frederick  von  Trenck,  and 
present  him  to  the  princess,  w^ho  immediately  assumed  a  gay 
and  laughing  expression;  she  wished  to  give  the  ambassa- 
dor a  new  proof  of  her  stormy  and  fitful  nature :  she  would 
humble  him  by  proving  that  she  was  not  harsh  and  rude  to 
all  the  world.  She  received  the  two  gentlemen,  therefore, 
with  great  cordiality,  and  laughed  heartily  over  the  adven- 
ture of  the  morning;  she  recounted  to  them,  merrily  and 
wittily,  how  and  why  she  had  thrown  the  sweet  roses  away. 
Amelia  was  now  so  lovely  and  so  spirited  to  look  upon,  so 
radiant  with  youth,  animation,  and  innocence,  that  the  eyes 
of  the  poor  young  officer  were  dazzled  and  sought  the  floor; 
completely  intoxicated  and  bewildered,  he  could  not  join  in 
the  conversation,  uttering  here  and  there  only  a  trembling 
monosyllable. 

This  did  not  escape  the  cunning  eye  of  the  master  of 
ceremonies.  "  I  must  withdraw,"  thought  he ;  "I  will  grant 
them  a  first  tete-a-tete.  I  will  observe  them  from  a  distance, 
and  be  able  to  decide  if  my  plan  will  succeed."  Excusing 
himself  upon  the  plea  of  duty,  Pollnitz  withdrew;  he 
glided  into  a  window  and  concealed  himself  behind  the  cur- 
tains, in  order  to  watch  the  countenances  of  his  two  victims. 
Pollnitz  had  rightly  judged.  The  necessity  of  taking  part 
in  the  conversation  with  the  princess  restored  to  the  young 
officer  his  intellect  and  his  courage,  and,  in  the  effort  to 


YO  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

overcome  his  timidity,  he  became  too  earnest,  too  impas- 
sioned. 

But  the  princess  did  not  remark  this;  she  rejoiced  in  an 
opportunity  to  show  the  Swedish  ambassador  how  amiable 
and  gracious  she  could  be  to  others,  and  thus  make  him 
more  sensible  of  her  rudeness  to  himself;  he  should  see  and 
confess  that  she  could  be  winning  and  attractive  when  it 
suited  her  purpose.  The  count  observed  her  narrowly,  even 
while  conversing  with  Ulrica;  he  saw  her  ready  smile,  her 
beaming  eye,  her  perhaps  rather  demonstrative  cordiality  to 
the  young  officer.  "  She  is  changeable  and  coquettish,"  he 
said  to  himself,  while  still  carrying  on  his  conversation 
with  the  talented,  refined,  and  thoroughly  maidenly  Princess 
Ulrica. 

The  great  and,  as  we  have  said,  somewhat  too  strongly 
marked  kindliness  of  Amelia,  added  fuel  to  the  passion  of 
Trenck;  he  became  more  daring. 

"  I  have  to  implore  your  highness  for  a  special  grace," 
said  he  in  a  suppressed  voice. 

"  Speak  on,"  said  she,  feeling  at  that  moment  an  inex- 
plicable emotion  which  made  her  heart  beat  high,  and  ban- 
ished the  blood  from  her  cheeks. 

"  I  have  dared  to  preserve  one  of  the  roses  which  you 
threw  into  the  garden.  It  was  a  mad  theft,  I  know  it,  but 
I  was  under  the  power  of  enchantment;  I  could  not  resist, 
and  would  at  that  moment  have  paid  for  the  little  blossom 
with  my  heart's  blood.  Oh,  if  your  royal  highness  could 
have  seen,  when  I  entered  my  room  and  closed  the  door, 
with  what  rapture  I  regarded  my  treasure,  how  I  knelt  be- 
fore it  and  worshipped  it,  scarcely  daring  to  touch  it  with 
my  lips!  it  recalled  to  me  a  lovely  fairy  tale  of  my  child- 
hood." 

"  How  could  a  simple  rose  recall  a  fairy  tale  ? "  said 
Amelia. 

"  It  is  a  legend  of  a  poor  shepherd-boy,  who,  lonely  and 
neglected,  had  fallen  asleep  under  a  tree  near  the  highway. 
Before  sleeping,  he  had  prayed  to  God  to  have  pity  upon 
him;  to  fill  this  great  and  painful  void  in  his  heart,  or  to 
send  His  Minister,  Death,  to  his  release.  While  sleeping  he 
bad  a  beautiful  dream.  He  thought  he  saw  the  heavens  open, 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       71 

and  an  angel  of  enchanting  gwce  and  beauty  floated  toward 
him.  Her  eyes  glowed  like  two  of  the  brightest  stars. 
*  You  shall  be  no  longer  lonely,"  she  whispered ;  *  my  image 
shall  abide  ever  in  your  heart,  and  strengthen  and  stimulate 
you  to  all  things  good  and  beautiful.'  While  saying  this, 
she  laid  a  wondrous  rose  upon  his  eyes,  and,  floating  off, 
soon  disappeared  in  the  clouds.  The  poor  shepherd-boy 
awoke,  and  was  enraptured  with  what  he  supposed  had  been 
a  wild  dream.  But  lo!  there  was  the  rose,  and  with  un- 
speakable joy  he  pressed  it  to  his  heart.  He  thanked  God 
for  this  sweet  flower,  which  proved  to  him  that  the  angel 
was  no  dream,  but  a  reality.  The  rose,  the  visible  emblem  • 
of  his  good  angel,  was  the  joy  and  comfort  of  his  life,  and 
he  wore  it  ever  in  his  heart. — I  thought  of  this  fairy  tale, 
princess,  as  I  looked  upon  my  rose,  but  I  felt  immediately 
that  I  dared  not  call  it  mine  without  the  consent  of  your 
highness.     Decide,  therefore ;  dare  I  keep  this  rose  ? " 

Amelia  did  not  reply.  She  had  listened  with  a  strange 
embarrassment  to  this  impassioned  tale.  The  world — all, 
was  forgotten;  she  was  no  longer  a  princess,  she  was  but  a 
simple  young  girl,  who  listened  for  the  first  time  to  words 
of  burning  passion,  and  whose  heart  trembled  with  sweet 
alarm. 

"  Princess,  dare  I  guard  this  rose  ? "  repeated  Frederick, 
with  a  trembling  voice. 

She  looked  at  him;  their  eyes  met;  the  young  maiden 
trembled,  but  the  man  stood  erect.  He  felt  strong,  proud, 
and  a  conqueror;  his  glance  was  like  the  eagle's,  when  about 
to  seize  a  lamb  and  bear  it  to  his  eyrie. 

"  He  goes  too  far ;  truly,  he  goes  too  far,"  whispered 
Pollnitz,  who  had  seen  all,  and  from  their  glances  and 
movements  had  almost  read  their  thoughts  and  words.  "  I 
must  bring  this  tete-a-tete  to  an  end,  and  I  shall  do  so  in 
a  profitable  manner." 

"  Dare  I  keep  this  rose  ? "  said  Frederick  von  Trenck,  a 
third  time. 

Amelia  turned  her  head  aside  and  whispered,  "  Keep  it." 

Trenck  would  have  answered,  but  in  that  moment  a 
hand  was  laid  upon  his  arm,  and  Pollnitz  stood  near  him. 

"  Prudence,"  whispered  he,  anxiously.     "  Do  you  not  see 


72  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

that  you  are  observed?  You  will  make  of  your  iusaue  and 
treasonable  passion  a  fairy  tale  for  the  whole  court." 

Amelia  uttered  a  slight  cry,  and  looked  anxiously  at 
Pollnitz.  She  had  heard  his  whispered  words,  and  the  sly 
baron  intended  that  she  should. 

"  Will  your  royal  highness  dismiss  this  madman,"  whis- 
pered he,  "  and  allow  me  to  awake  his  sleeping  reason  ?  " 

"  Go,  Herr  von  Trenck,"  said  she  lightly. 

Pollnitz  took  the  arm  of  the  young  officer  and  led  him  off, 
saying  to  himself,  with  a  chuckle :  "  That  was  a  good  stroke, 
and  I  feel  that  I  shall  succeed;  I  have  betrayed  his  passion 
to  her,  and  forced  myself  into  their  confidence.  I  shall  soon 
be  employed  as  Love's  messenger,  and  that  is  ever  with 
princesses  a  profitable  service.  Ah,  King  Frederick,  King 
Frederick,  you  have  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  borrow 
money!  Well,  I  shall  not  find  that  necessary;  my  hands 
shall  be  filled  from  the  royal  treasures.  When  the  casket 
of  the  princess  is  empty,  the  king  must  of  course  replenish 
it."  And  the  baron  laughed  too  loudly  for  a  master  of 
ceremonies. 


CHAPTER   \^II. 

SIGNORA  BARBARINA. 

The  princess  regarded  their  retreating  figures  with 
dreamy  eyes.  Then,  yielding  to  an  unconquerable  desire  to 
be  alone,  to  give  herself  up  to  undisturbed  thought,  she  was 
about  to  withdraw;  but  the  Princess  Ulrica,  who  thought  it 
necessary  that  the  Swedish  ambassador  should  have  another 
opportunity  of  observing  the  proud  and  sullen  temper  of  her 
sister,  called  her  back. 

"  Remain  a  moment  longer,  Amelia,"  said  the  princess. 
"  You  shall  decide  between  Count  Tessin  and  myself.  Will 
you  accept  my  sister  as  umpire,  count?  " 

"  Without  doubt,"  said  the  coimt.  "  I  should  be  greatly 
honored  if  the  princess  will  be  so  gracious.  Perhaps  I  may 
be  more  fortunate  on  this  occasion." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       73 

"  It  appears  to  me,"  said  Amelia,  rudely  interrupting 
him,  "  that  '  fortunate  '  and  '  unfortunate  '  are  not  terms 
which  can  be  properly  used  in  any  connection  between  a 
princess  of  Prussia  and  yourself."  Amelia  then  turned  to- 
ward her  sister  and  gave  her  a  glance  which  plainly  said: 
Well,  do  I  not  play  my  role  in  masterly  style  ?  Have  I  not 
hastened  to  follow  your  counsels  ?  "  Speak,  sister ;  name 
the  point  which  Count  Tessin  dares  to  contest  with  you." 

"  Oh,  the  count  is  a  man  and  a  scholar,  and  has  full  right 
to  differ,"  said  Ulrica,  graciously.  "  The  question  was  a 
comparison  of  Queen  Elizabeth  of  England  and  Queen 
Christina  of  Sweden.  I  maintain  that  Christina  had  a 
stronger  and  more  powerful  intellect;  that  she  knew  better 
how  to  conquer  her  spirit,  to  master  her  womanly  weak- 
nesses ;  that  she  was  more  thoroughly  cultivated,  and  studied 
philosophy  and  science,  not  as  Elizabeth,  for  glitter  and 
show,  but  because  she  had  an  inward  thirst  for  knowledge. 
The  count  asserts  that  Elizabeth  was  better  versed  in  state- 
craft, and  a  more  amiable  woman.  Xow,  Amelia,  to  which 
of  these  two  queens  do  you  give  the  preference  ? " 

'*  Oh,  without  doubt,  to  Queen  Christina  of  Sweden. 
This  great  woman  was  wise  enough  not  to  regard  the  crown 
of  Sweden  as  a  rare  and  precious  gem;  she  chose  a  simple 
life  of  obscurity  and  poverty  in  beautiful  Italy,  rather  than 
a  throne  in  cold  and  unfruitful  Sweden.  This  act  alone 
establishes  her  superiority.  Yes,  sister,  you  are  right. 
Christina  was  the  greater  woman,  even  because  she  scorned 
to  be  Queen  of  Sweden." 

So  saying,  Amelia  bowed  slightingly,  and,  turning  aside, 
she  summoned  Madame  von  Kleist,  and  commenced  a  merry 
chat  with  her.  Count  Tessin  regarded  her  with  a  dark  and 
scornful  glance,  and  pressed  his  lips  tightly  together,  as  if 
to  restrain  his  anger. 

"  I  beseech  you,  count,"  said  Ulrica,  in  a  low,  soft  voiced 
"  not  to  be  offended  at  the  thoughtless  words  of  my  dear 
little  sister.  It  is  true,  she  is  a  little  rude  and  resentful  to- 
day; but  you  will  see — to-morrow,  perhaps,  will  be  one  of 
her  glorious  sunny  days,  and  you  will  find  her  irresistibly 
charming.  Her  moods  are  changeable,  and  for  that  reason 
we  call  her  our  little  *  April  fee.'  " 


74  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  Ah,  tlie  princess  is,  then,  as  uncertain  as  April  ? "  said 
the  count,  with  a  frosty  smile. 

"  More  uncertain  than  April,"  said  Ulrica,  sweetly, 
"  But  what  would  you,  sir  ?  we  all,  brothers  and  sisters,  are 
responsible  for  that.  You  must  know  that  she  is  our  fa- 
vorite, and  is  always  indulged.  I  counsel  you  not  to  find 
fault  with  our  little  sister.  Count  Tessin;  that  would  be  to 
bring  an  accusation  against  us  all.  You  have  suffered  to- 
day from  a  shower  of  her  April  moods;  to-morrow  you  may 
rejoice  in  the  sunshine  of  her  favor." 

"  I  shall,  however,  be  doubtful  and  anxious,"  said  the 
ambassador,  coolly ;  "  the  April  sun  is  sometimes  accom- 
panied by  rain  and  storm,  and  these  sudden  changes  bring 
sickness  and  death." 

"  Allow  me  to  make  one  request,"  said  Ulrica.  "  Let  not 
the  king  guess  that  you  have  suffered  from  these  April 
changes." 

"  Certainly  not ;  and  if  your  royal  highness  will  gracious- 
ly allow  me  to  bask  in  the  sunshine  of  your  presence,  I  shall 
soon  recover  from  the  chilling  effect  of  these  April  showers." 

"  Well,  I  think  we  have  played  our  parts  admirably,"  said 
Ulrica  to  herself,  as  she  found  time,  during  the  course  of  the 
evening,  to  meditate  upon  the  events  of  the  day.  *'  Amelia 
will  accomplish  her  purpose,  and  will  not  be  Queen  of 
Sweden.  She  would  have  it  so,  and  I  shall  not  reproach 
myself." 

Princess  Ulrica  leaned  comfortably  back  in  her  arm- 
chair, and  gave  her  attention  to  a  play  of  Voltaire,  which 
was  now  being  performed.  This  representation  took  place 
in  the  small  theatre  in  the  royal  palace.  There  was  no  pub- 
lic theatre  in  Berlin,  and  the  king  justly  pronounced  the 
large  opera-house  unsuited  to  declamation.  Frederick  gen- 
erally gave  his  undivided  attention  to  the  play,  but  this 
-evening  he  was  restless  and  impatient,  and  he  accorded  less 
applause  to  this  piquant  and  witty  drama  of  his  favorite 
author  than  he  was  wont  to  do.  The  king  was  impatient, 
because  the  king  was  waiting.  He  had  so  far  restrained  all 
outward  expression  of  his  impatient  curiosity;  the  French 
play  had  not  commenced  one  moment  earlier  than  usual. 
Frederick  had,  according  to  custom,  gone  behind  the  scenes. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       75 

to  say  a  few  friendly  and  encouraging  words  to  the  per- 
formers, to  call  their  attention  to  his  favorite  passages,  and 
exhort  them  to  be  truly  eloquent  in  their  recitations.  And 
now  the  king  waited ;  he  felt  feverishly  impatient  to  see  and 
judge  for  himself  this  capricious  beauty,  this  world-re- 
nowned artiste,  this  Signora  Barbarina,  whose  rare  loveli- 
ness and  grace  enchanted  and  bewildered  all  who  looked 
upon  her. 

At  length  the  curtain  fell.  In  a  few  moments  he  would 
see  the  Barbarina  dance  her  celebrated  solo.  A  breathless 
stillness  reigned  throughout  the  assembly;  every  eye  was 
fixed  upon  the  curtain.  The  bell  sounded,  the  curtain  flew 
up,  and  a  lovely  landscape  met  the  eye:  in  the  background 
a  village  church,  rose-bushes  in  rich  bloom,  and  shady  trees 
on  every  side;  the  declining  sun  gilded  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  against  the  base  of  which  the  little  village  nestled. 
The  distant  sound  of  the  evening  bell  was  calling  the  simple 
cottagers  to  "  Ave  Maria."  It  was  an  enchanting  picture  of 
innocence  and  peace;  in  striking  contrast  to  this  courtly 
assemblage,  glittering  with  gems  and  starry  orders — a  start- 
ling opposite  to  that  sweet,  pure  idyl.  And  now  this  select 
circle  seemed  agitated  as  by  an  electric  shock.  There,  upon 
the  stage,  floated  the  Signora  Barbarina. 

The  king  raised  himself  involuntarily  a  little  higher  in 
his  arm-chair,  in  order  to  examine  the  signora  more  closely; 
he  leaned  back,  however,  ashamed  of  his  impatience,  and  a 
light  cloud  was  on  his  brow;  he  felt  himself  oppressed  and 
overcome  by  this  magical  beauty.  He  who  had  looked  death 
in  the  face  without  emotion,  who  had  seen  the  deadly  can- 
non-balls falling  thickly  around  him  without  a  trembling 
of  the  eyelids,  now  felt  a  presentiment  of  danger,  and 
shrank  from  it. 

Barbarina  was  indeed  lovely,  irresistibly  lovely,  in  her 
ravishing  costume  of  a  shepherdess;  her  dress  was  of  crim- 
son satin,  her  black  velvet  bodice  was  fastened  over  her  vo- 
luptuous bosom  by  rich  golden  cords,  finished  off  by  tassels 
glittering  with  diamonds.  A  wreath  of  crimson  roses 
adorned  her  hair,  which  fell  in  graceful  ringlets  about  her 
wondrous  brow,  and  formed  a  rich  frame  around  her  pure, 
.oval  face.     The  dark  incarnate  of  her  full,  ripe  lip  con- 


76  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OKT^ 

trasted  richly  with  the  light,  rosy  blush  of  her  fair,  smooth 
cheek.  Barbarina's  smile  was  a  promise  of  love  and  bliss; 
and,  when  those  great  fiery  eyes  looked  at  you  earnestly, 
there  was  such  an  intense  glow,  such  a  depth  of  power  and 
passion  in  their  rays,  you  could  not  but  feel  that  there  was 
danger  in  her  love  as  in  her  scorn. 

To-day,  she  would  neither  threaten  nor  inspire;  she  was 
only  a  smiling,  joyous,  simple  peasant-girl,  who  had  re- 
turned wild  with  joy  to  her  native  village,  and  whose  rapture 
found  expression  in  the  gay  and  graceful  mazes  of  the  dance. 
She  floated  here  and  there,  like  a  wood-nymph,  smiling, 
happy,  careless,  wonderful  to  look  upon  in  her  loveliness 
and  beauty,  but  more  wonderful  still  in  her  art.  Simplicity 
and  grace  marked  every  movement;  there  seemed  no  diffi- 
culties in  her  path — to  dance  was  her  happiness. 

The  dance  was  at  an  end.  Barbarina,  breathless,  glow- 
ing, smiling,  bowed  low.  Then  all  was  still;  no  hand  was 
moved,  no  applause  greeted  her.  Her  great  burning  eyes 
wandered  threateningly  and  questioningly  over  the  sa- 
loon; then,  raising  her  lovely  head  proudly,  she  stepped 
back. 

The  curtain  fell,  and  now  all  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
king,  in  whose  face  the  courtiers  expected  to  read  the  im- 
pression which  the  signora  had  made  upon  him;  but  the 
countenance  of  the  king  told  nothing;  he  was  quiet  and 
thoughtful,  his  brow  was  stem,  and  his  lips  compressed. 
The  courtiers  concluded  that  he  was  disappointed,  and  be- 
gan at  once  to  find  fault,  and  make  disparaging  remarks. 
Frederick  did  not  regard  them.  At  this  moment  he  was  not 
a  king,  he  was  only  a  man — a  man  who,  in  silent  rapture, 
had  gazed  upon  this  wondrous  combination  of  grace  and 
beauty.  The  king  was  a  hero,  but  he  trembled  before  this 
woman,  and  a  sort  of  terror  laid  hold  upon  him. 

The  curtain  rose,  and  the  second  act  of  the  drama  be- 
gan ;  no  one  looked  at  the  stage ;  after  this  living,  breathing, 
impersonation  of  a  simple  story,  a  spoken  drama  seemed 
oppressive.  Every  one  rejoiced  when  the  second  act  was  at 
an  end.     The  curtain  would  soon  rise  for  Barbarina. 

But  this  did  not  occur;  there  was  a  long  delay;  there 
was  eager  expectation;  the  curtain  did  not  rise;  the  bell 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       77 

did  not  ring.  At  last,  Baron  Swartz  crossed  the  stage  and 
drew  near  to  the  king. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  "  the  Signora  Barbarina  declares  she 
will  not  dance  again;  she  is  exhausted  by  grief  and  anxiety, 
and  fatigued  by  her  journey." 

"  Go  and  say  to  her  that  I  command  her  to  dance,"  said 
Frederick,  who  felt  himself  once  more  a  king,  and  rejoiced 
in  his  power  over  this  enchantress,  who  almost  held  him  in 
her  toils. 

Baron  Swartz  hastened  behind  the  scenes,  but  soon  re- 
turned, somewhat  cast  down. 

"  Sire,  the  signora  affirms  that  she  will  not  dance,  and 
that  the  king  has  no  power  to  compel  her.  She  dances  to 
please  herself." 

"  Ah !  that  is  a  menace,"  said  the  king,  threateningly ; 
and  without  further  speech  he  stepped  upon  the  stage,  fol- 
lowed by  Baron  Swartz.  "  Where  is  this  person  ? "  said  the 
king. 

"  She  is  in  her  own  room,  your  majesty ;  shall  I  call 
her?" 

"  Xo,  I  will  go  to  her.     Show  me  the  way." 

The  baron  stepped  forward,  and  Frederick  endeavored 
to  collect  himself  and  assume  a  cool  and  grave  bearing. 

"  Sire,  this  is  the  chamber  of  the  Signora  Barbarina." 

"  Open  the  door."  But  before  the  baron  had  time  to 
obey  the  command,  the  impatient  hand  of  the  king  had 
opened  the  door,  and  he  had  entered  the  room. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  KING  AND  BARBARINA. 

Barbarina  was  resting,  half  reclining,  and  wholly  ab- 
stracted, upon  a  small  crimson  divan;  her  rounded  arms 
were  crossed  over  her  breast.  She  fixed  her  blazing,  glow- 
ing eyes  upon  the  intruders,  and  seemed  petrified,  in  her 
stubborn  immobility,  her  determined  silence.     She  had  the 


Yg  BERLIN  Aim  SAKS-SOUCl;  OR, 

glance  of  a  panther  who  has  prepared  herself  for  death,  or 
to  slay  her  enemy. 

The  king  stood  a  moment  quiet  and  waiting,  but  Barba- 
rina  did  not  move.  Baron  Swartz,  alarmed  by  her  contemptu- 
ous and  disrespectful  bearing,  drew  near,  in  order  to  say 
that  the  king  had  vouchsafed  to  visit  her,  but  Frederick 
motioned  him  to  withdraw;  and,  in  order  that  Barbarina 
might  not  understand  him,  he  told  him  in  German  to  leave 
the  room  and  await  him  in  the  corridor. 

"  I  do  not  wish  the  signora  to  know  that  I  am  the  king," 
said  he.  As  the  baron  withdrew,  Frederick  said  to  him, 
"  Leave  the  door  open." 

Barbarina  was  motionless,  only  her  large  black  eyes 
wandered  questioningly  from  one  to  the  other;  she  sought 
to  read  the  meaning  of  their  words,  not  one  of  which  she 
understood;  but  her  features  expressed  no  anxiety,  no  dis- 
quiet; she  did  not  look  like  a  culprit  or  a  rebel;  she  had 
rather  the  air  of  a  stern  queen,  withholding  her  royal  fa- 
vor. The  king  drew  near  her.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
him  with  inexpressible,  earnest  calm;  and  this  cool  indif- 
ference, so  rarely  seen  by  a  king,  embarrassed  Frederick, 
and  at  the  same  time  intoxicated  him. 

"  You  are,  then,  determined  not  to  dance  again  ? "  said 
the  king. 

"  Fully  determined,"  said  she,  in  a  rich  and  sonorous 
voice. 

"  Beware !  beware ! "  said  he ;  but  he  could  not  assume 
that  threatening  tone  which  he  wished.  "  The  king  may 
perhaps  compel  you." 

"  Compel  me !  me,  the  Barbarina ! "  said  she,  with  a 
mocking  laugh,  and  disclosing  two  rows  of  pearly  teeth. 
"  And  how  can  the  king  compel  me  to  dance  ?  " 

"  You  must  be  convinced  that  he  has  some  power  over 
you,  since  he  brought  you  here  against  your  will." 

"Yes,  that  is  true,"  said  she,  raising  herself  up  proudly; 
"  he  brought  me  here  by  force ;  he  has  acted  like  a  barbarian, 
a  cold-blooded  tyrant !  " 

"  Signora,"  said  Frederick,  menacingly,  "  one  does  not 
speak  so  of  kings." 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  she  said,  passionately.    "  What  is  your 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.      79 

king  to  me?  What  claim  has  he  upon  my  love,  upon  my 
consideration,  or  even  my  obedience  ?  What  has  he  done 
for  me,  that  I  should  regard  him  otherwise  than  as  a  tyrant  ? 
What  is  he  to  me  ?  I  am  myself  a  queen ;  yes,  and  believe  me, 
a  proud  and  an  obstinate  one !  Who  and  what  is  this  king, 
whom  I  do  not  know,  whom  I  have  never  seen,  who  has  for- 
gotten that  I  am  a  woman,  yes,  forgotten  that  he  is  a  man, 
though  he  bears  the  empty  title  of  a  king?  A  true  king  is 
•  always  and  only  a  gallant  cavalier  in  his  conduct  to  women. 
If  he  fails  in  this,  he  is  contemptible  and  despised." 

"  How !  you  despise  the  king  ? "  said  Frederick,  who 
really  enjoyed  this  unaccustomed  scene. 

"  Yes,  I  despise  him !  yes,  I  hate  him ! "  cried  the  Bar- 
barina,  with  a  wild  and  stormy  outbreak  of  her  southern 
nature.  "  I  no  longer  pray  to  God  for  my  own  happiness ; 
that  this  cruel  king  has  destroyed.  I  pray  to  God  for  re- 
venge; yes,  for  vengeance  upon  this  man,  who  has  no  heart, 
and  who  tramples  the  hearts  of  others  under  his  feet.  And 
God  will  help  me.  I  shall  revenge  myself  on  this  man.  I 
have  sworn  it — I  will  keep  my  word!  Go,  sii,  and  tell  this 
to  your  king;  tell  him  to  beware  of  Barbarina.  Greater, 
bolder,  more  magnanimous  than  he,  I  warn  him!  Cunning- 
ly, slyly,  unwarned,  by  night  I  was  fallen  upon  by  spies,  and 
dragged  like  a  culprit  to  Berlin." 

The  king  had  no  wish  to  put  an  end  to  this  piquant  scene ; 
he  was  only  accustomed  to  the  voice  of  praise  and  of  ap- 
plause; it  was  a  novelty,  and  therefore  agreeable  to  be  so 
energetically  railed  at  and  abused. 

"  Do  you  not  fear  that  the  king  will  be  angry  when  I  re- 
peat your  words  ? " 

"  Fear !  What  more  can  your  king  do,  that  I  should  fear 
him  ?  Yes,  he  is  a  king ;  but  am  not  I  a  queen  ?  This  paltry 
kingdom  is  but  a  small  portion  of  the  world,  which  is  mine, 
wholly  mine;  it  belongs  to  me,  as  it  belongs  to  the  eagle 
who  spreads  her  proud  wings  and  looks  down  upon  her  vast 
domains;  he  has  millions  in  his  treasury,  but  they  are 
pressed  from  the  pockets  of  his  poor  subjects;  he  requires 
many  agents  to  collect  his  gold,  and  his  people  give  it  grudg- 
ingly, but  my  subjects  bring  their  tribute  joyfully  and  lay  it 
at  my  feet  with  loving  words.    Look  you !  look  at  these  twg 


80  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

little  feet:  they  are  my  assessors;  they  collect  the  taxes 
from  my  people,  and  all  the  dwellers  in  Europe  are  mine. 
These  are  my  agents,  they  bring  me  in  millions  of  gold; 
they  are  also  my  avengers,  by  their  aid  I  shall  revenge  my- 
self on  your  barbaric  king." 

She  leaned  back  upon  the  pillows  and  breathed  audibly, 
exhausted  by  her  wild  passion.  The  king  looked  at  her  with 
wonder.  She  was  to  him  a  rare  and  precious  work  of  art, 
something  to  be  studied  and  worshipped.  Her  alluring 
beauty,  her  impetuous,  uncontrolled  passions,  her  bold  sin- 
cerity, were  all  attractions,  and  he  felt  himself  under  the 
spell  of  her  enchantments.  Let  her  rail  and  swear  to  be  re- 
venged on  the  barbarian.  The  king  heard  her  not;  a  simple 
gentleman  stood  before  her;  a  man  who  felt  that  Barbarina 
was  right,  and  who  confessed  to  himself  that  the  king  had 
forgotten,  in  her  rude  seizure,  that  this  Barbarina  was  a 
woman — forgotten  that  he,  in  all  his  relations  with  women, 
should  be  only  a  cavalier. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Barbarina,  and  an  expression  of  triumph 
was  painted  on  her  lips — "  yes,  my  little  feet  will  be  my 
avengers.  The  king  will  never  more  see  them  dance — never 
more;  they  have  cost  him  thousands  of  gold;  because  of 
them  he  is  at  variance  with  the  noble  Republic  of  Venice. 
Well,  he  has  seen  them  for  the  last  time.  Ah!  it  is  a  light 
thing  to  subdue  a  province,  but  impossible  to  conquer  a 
woman  and  an  artiste  who  is  resolved  not  to  surrender." 

Frederick  smiled  at  these  proud  words. 

"  So  you  will  not  dance  before  the  king,  and  yet  you  have 
danced  for  him  this  evening  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  raising  her  head  proudly,  "  I  have 
proved  to  him  that  I  am  an  artiste  ;  only  when  he  feels  that, 
will  it  pain  him  never  again  to  see  me  exercise  my  art." 

"  That  is,  indeed,  refined  reasoning,"  said  the  king. 
"  You  danced,  then,  in  order  to  make  the  king  thirst  anew 
for  this  intoxicating  draught,  and  then  deny  him?  Truly, 
one  must  be  an  Italian  to  conceive  this  plan." 

"  I  am  an  Italian,  and  woe  to  me  that  I  am ! "  A  storm 
of  tears  gushed  from  her  eyes,  but  in  a  moment,  as  if  scorn- 
ing her  own  weakness,  she  drove  them  back  into  her  heart. 
"  Poor  Italian,"  she  said,  in  a  soft,  low  tone — "  poor  child  of 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       81 

the  South,  what  are  you  doing  in  this  cold  North,  auiougst 
these  frosty  hearts  whose  icy  smiles  petrify  art  and  beauty? 
Ah !  to  think  that  even  the  Barbarina  could  not  melt  the  ice- 
rind  from  their  pitiful  souls;  to  think  that  she  displayed 
before  them  all  the  power  and  grace  of  her  art,  and  they 
flooked  on  with  motionless  hands  and  silent  lips!  Ah!  this 
humiliation  would  have  killed  me  in  Italy,  because  I  love  my 
people,  and  they  understand  and  appreciate  all  that  is  rare 
and  beautiful.  My  heart  burns  with  scorn  and  contempt  for 
these  torpid  Berliners." 

"  I  understand  you  now,"  said  the  king ;  "  you  heard  no 
bravos,  you  were  not  applauded ;  therefore  you  are  angry  ? '' 

"  I  laugh  at  it ! "  said  she,  looking  fiercely  at  the  king. 
"  Do  you  not  know,  sir,  that  this  applause,  these  bravos, 
are  to  the  artiste  as  the  sound  of  a  trumpet  to  the  gallant 
war-horse,  they  invigorate  and  inspire,  and  swell  the  heart 
with  strength  and  courage  ?  When  the  artiste  stands  upon 
the  stage,  the  saloon  before  him  is  his  heaven,  and  there  his 
judges  sit,  to  bestow  eternal  happiness  or  eternal  condemna- 
tion; to  crown  him  with  immortal  fame,  or  cover  him  with 
shame  and  confusion.  ]^ow,  sir,  that  I  have  explained  to 
you  that  the  stage  saloon  is  our  heaven,  and  the  spectators 
are  our  judges,  you  will  understand  that  these  bravos  are  to 
us  as  the  music  of  the  spheres." 

"  Yes,  I  comprehend,"  said  the  king,  smiling ;  "  but  you 
must  be  indulgent;  in  this  theatre  etiquette  forbids  ap- 
plause. You  have  danced  to-day  before  an  invited  audi- 
ence, who  pay  nothing,  and  therefore  have  not  the  right 
to  blame  or  praise;  no  one  dare  applaud — no  one  but  the 
king." 

"  Ha !  and  this  rude  man  did  not  applaud !  "  cried  she, 
showing  her  small  teeth,  and  raising  her  hand  threateningly 
toward  heaven. 

"  Perhaps  he  was  motionless  and  drunk  from  rapture," 
said  the  king,  bowing  gracefully ;  "  when  he  seea  you  dance 
again,  he  will  have  more  control  over  himself,  and  will,  per- 
haps, applaud  you  heartily." 

"Perhaps?"  cried  she.  "I  shall  not  expose  myself  to 
this  *  perhaps.'  I  will  dance  no  more.  My  foot  is  sore,  and 
your  king  cannot  force  me  to  dance." 


82  SEtlLiN  Alfi)  SAi^S-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  No,  he  cannot  force  you,  but  you  will  do  it  willingly ; 
you  will  dance  for  him  again  this  evening,  of  your  own  free 
will." 

Barbarina  answered  by  one  burst  of  wild,  demoniac 
laughter,  expressive  of  her  scorn  and  her  resentment. 

"  You  will  dance  again  this  evening,"  repeated  Frederick, 
and  his  keen  eye  gazed  steadily  into  that  of  Barbarina,  who, 
though  weeping  bitterly,  shook  her  lovely  head,  and  gave 
him  back  bravely  glance  for  glance.  "  You  will  dance, 
Barbarina,  because,  if  you  do  not,  you  are  lost.  I  do  not 
mean  by  this  that  you  are  lost  because  the  king  will  punish 
you  for  your  obstinacy.  The  king  is  no  Bluebeard;  he 
neither  murders  women  nor  confines  them  in  underground 
prisons;  he  has  no  torture  chambers  ready  for  you;  for  the 
King  of  Prussia,  whom  you  hate  so  fiercely,  has  abolished 
the  torture  throughout  his  kingdom — the  torture,  which  still 
flourishes  luxuriantly  by  the  side  of  oranges  and  myrtles 
in  your  beautiful  Italy.  No,  signora,  the  king  will  not  punr 
ish  you  if  you  persist  in  your  obstinacy;  he  will  only  send 
you  away,  that  is  all." 

"  And  that  is  my  only  wish,  all  that  I  ask  of  Fate." 

"  You  do  not  know  yourself.  You,  who  are  an  artiste, 
who  are  a  lovely  woman,  who  are  ambitious,  and  look  upon 
fame  as  worth  striving  for,  you  would  not  lose  your  power, 
trample  under  foot  your  ambition,  see  your  rare  beauty 
slighted,  and  your  enchanting  grace  despised  ? " 

"  I  cannot  see  why  all  these  terrible  things  will  come  to 
pass  if  I  refuse  to  dance  again  before  your  king? " 

"  I  will  explain  to  you,  signora — listen.  The  king  (how- 
ever contemptuously  you  may  think  and  speak  of  him)  is 
still  a  man,  upon  whom  the  eyes  of  all  Europe  are  turned 
— that  is  to  say,"  he  added,  with  a  gay  smile  and  a  grace- 
ful bow,  "  when  his  bold  eye  is  not  exactly  fixed  upon  them, 
signora.  The  voice  of  this  king  has  some  weight  in  your 
world,  thoflgh,  as  yet,  he  has  only  stolen  provinces  and 
women.  It  is  well  known  that  the  king  has  so  irresistible 
a  desire  to  see  you  and  to  admire  you,  that  he  forgot  his 
knightly  gallantry,  or  set  it  aside,  and,  relying  only  upon 
his  right,  he  exacted  the  fulfilment  of  the  contract  signed 
by  your  own  lovely  hand.     That  was,  perhaps,  not  worthy  of 


Frederick  the  grea¥  and  his  friends.     83 

a  cavalier,  but  it  was  not  unjust.  You  were  forced  to  obey. 
You  came  to  Berlin  unwillingly,  that  I  confess;  but  you 
have  this  evening  danced  before  the  king  of  your  own  free 
will.  This,  from  your  stand-point,  was  a  great  mistake. 
You  can  no  longer  say,  '  I  will  not  dance  before  the  king, 
because  I  wish  to  revenge  myself.'  You  have  already 
danced,  and  no  matter  with  what  refinement  of  reason  you 
may  explain  this  false  step,  no  one  will  believe  you  if  the 
king  raises  his  voice  against  you;  and  he  will  do  this,  be- 
lieve me.  He  will  say :  '  I  brought  this  Barbarina  to  Berlin. 
I  wished  to  see  if  the  world  had  gone  mad  or  become  child- 
ish, or  if  Barbarina  really  deserved  the  enthusiasm  and 
adoration  which  followed  her  steps.  Well,  I  have  seen  her 
dance,  and  I  find  the  world  is  mad  in  folly.  I  give  them 
back  their  goddess — she  does  not  suit  me.  She  is  a  wooden 
image  in  my  eyes.  I  wished  to  capture  Terpsichore  herself, 
and  lo,  I  found  I  had  stolen  her  chambermaid !  I  have  seen 
your  goddess  dance  once,  and  I  am  weary  of  her  pirouettes 
and  minauderies.    Lo,  there,  thou  hast  that  is  thine.' " 

"  Sir,  sir ! "  cried  Barbarina  menacingly,  and  springing 
up  with  flaming  eyes  and  panting  breath. 

"  That  is  what  the  king  will  say,"  said  Frederick  quietly. 
"  You  know  that  the  voice  of  the  king  is  full  and  strong ; 
it  will  resound  throughout  Europe.  No  one  will  believe 
that  you  refused  to  dance.  It  will  be  said  that  you  did  not 
please  the  king;  this  will  be  proved  by  the  fact  that  he  did 
not  applaud,  did  not  utter  a  single  bravo.  In  a  word,  it  will 
be  said  you  have  made  a  fiasco.''^ 

Barbarina  sprang  from  her  seat  and  laid  her  hand  upon 
the  arm  of  the  king  with  indescribable,  inimitable  grace  and 
passion. 

"  Lead  me  upon  the  stage — I  will  dance  now.  Ah,  this 
king  shall  not  conquer  me,  shall  not  cast  me  down.  No,  no ! 
I  will  compel  him  to  applaud ;  he  shall  confess  that  I  am  in- 
deed an  artiste.  Tell  the  director  to  prepare — I  will  come 
immediately  upon  the  stage." 

Barbarina  was  right  when  sRe  compared  the  artiste  to  a 

war-horse.     At  this  moment  she  did  indeed  resemble  one: 

she  seemed  to  hear  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  calling  to  battle 

and  to  fame.    Her  cheeks  glowed,  her  nostrils  dilated,  a 

d 


84  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

quick  and  violent  breathing  agitated  her  breast,  and  a  nen'- 
ous  and  convulsive  trembling  for  action  was  seen  in  every 
movement.  The  king  observed  and  comprehended  her.  He 
understood  her  tremor  and  her  haste;  he  appreciated  this 
soul-thirsting  for  fame,  this  fervor  of  ambition,  excited  by 
the  possibility  of  failure;  her  boldness  enraptured  him. 
The  sincerity  and  power  with  which  she  expressed  her  emo- 
tions, commanded  his  respect;  and  while  the  king  paid  this 
tribute  to  her  intellectual  qualities,  the  man  at  the  same 
time  confessed  to  himself  that  her  personal  attractions 
merited  the  worship  she  received.  She  was  beautiful,  en- 
dowed with  the  alluring,  gentle,  soft,  luxurious,  and  at  the 
same  time  modest  beauty  of  the  Venus  Anadyomene,  the 
goddess  rising  from  the  sea. 

"  Come,"  said  Frederick,  "  give  me  your  hand.  I  will 
conduct  you,  and  I  promise  you  that  this  time  the  king  will 
applaud." 

Barbarina  did  not  reply.  In  the  fire  of  her  impatience, 
she  pressed  the  king  onward  toward  the  door.  Suddenly 
she  paused,  and  giving  him  an  enchanting  smile,  she  said, 
"  I  am,  without  doubt,  much  indebted  to  you ;  you  have 
warned  me  of  a  danger,  and  in  fact  guarded  me  from  an 
abyss.  Truly  I  think  this  was  not  done  for  my  sake,  but 
because  yovir  king  had  commanded  that  I  should  dance. 
Your  reasons  were  well  grounded,  and  I  thank  you  sincerely. 
I  pray  you,  sir,  give  me  your  name,  that  I  may  guard  it  in 
my  memory  as  the  only  pleasant  association  with  Berlin." 

"  From  this  day,  signora,  you  will  confess  that  you  owe 
me  a  small  service.  You  have  told  me  it  was  a  light  task 
to  win  provinces,  but  to  capture  and  subdue  a  woman  was 
impossible.  I  hope  now  I  shall  be  a  hero  in  your  eyes:  I 
have  not  only  conquered  provinces,  I  have  captured  a  woman 
and  subdued  her." 

Barbarina  was  neither  astonished  nor  alarmed  at  these 
words.  She  had  seen  so  many  kings  and  princes  at  her  feet 
to  be  blinded  by  the  glitter  of  royalty.  She  let  go  the  arm 
of  the  king,  and  said  calmly  and  coolly :  "  Sire,  I  do  not  ask 
for  pardon  or  grace.  The  possessor  of  a  crown  must  wear 
it,  if  he  demands  that  it  should  be  acknowledged  and  re- 
spected, and  the  pomp  and  glare  of  royalty  is,  it  seems,  easily 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       85 

veiled.  Besides,  I  would  not  have  acted  otherwise,  had  I 
known  who  it  it  was  that  dared  intrude  upon  me." 

"  I  am  convinced  of  that,"  said  Frederick,  smiling. 
"  You  are  a  queen  who  has  but  small  consideration  for  the 
little  King  of  Prussia,  because  he  requires  so  many  agents 
to  impress  the  gold  from  the  pockets  of  his  unwilling  sub- 
jects. You  are  right — my  agents  cost  me  much  money,  and 
bring  small  tribute,  while  yours  cost  nothing  and  yield  a 
rich  harvest.  Come,  signora,  your  assessors  must  enter 
upon  their  duties." 

He  nodded  to  Baron  Swartz,  who  stood  in  the  corridor, 
and  said  in  German,  "  The  signora  will  dance ;  she  must  be 
received  with  respect  and  treated  with  consideration."  He 
gave  a  light  greeting  to  Barbarina  and  returned  to  the 
saloon,  where  he  found  the  last  act  of  the  drama  just  con- 
cluded. 

Every  eye  was  fixed  upon  the  king  as  he  entered.  He 
had  left  the  room  in  anger,  and  the  courtiers  almost  trem- 
bled at  the  thought  of  his  fierce  displeasure ;  but  Frederick's 
brow  was  clear,  and  an  expression  of  peace  and  quiet  was 
written  on  his  features.  He  took  his  place  between  the  two 
queens,  muttered  a  few  words  of  explanation  to  his  mother, 
and  bowed  smilingly  to  his  wife.  Poor  queen!  poor  Eliza- 
beth Christine !  she  had  the  sharp  eye  of  a  loving  and  jeal- 
ous woman,  and  she  saw  in  the  king's  face  what  no  one,  not 
even  Frederick  himself,  knew.  While  every  eye  was  turned 
upon  the  stage ;  while  all  with  breathless  rapture  gazed  upon 
the  marvellous  beauty  and  grace  of  Barbarina,  the  queen 
alone  fixed  a  stolen  and  trembling  glance  upon  the  counte- 
nance of  her  husband.  She  saw  not  that  Barbarina,  in- 
spired by  ambition  and  passion,  was  more  lovely,  more  en- 
chanting than  before.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  face 
of  her  husband,  now  luminous  with  admiration  and  delight; 
she  saw  his  soft  smile,  and  the  iron  entered  her  soul. 

The  dance  was  at  an  end.  Barbarina  came  forward  and 
bowed  low;  and  now  something  happened  so  unheard  of,  so 
contrary  to  court  etiquette,  that  the  master  of  ceremonies 
was  filled  with  surprise  and  disapprobation.  The  king  ap- 
plauded, not  as  gracious  kings  applaud  generally,  by  laying 
his  hands  lightly  together,  but  like  a  wild  enthusiast  who 


86  BEELIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

wishes  to  confess  to  the  world  that  he  is  bewildered,  enrap- 
tured. He  then  rose  from  his  chair,  and  turning  to  the  prin- 
cesses and  generals  behind  him,  he  said,  "  Gentlemen,  why  do 
you  not  applaud?  "  and  as  if  these  magical  words  had  released 
the  hands  from  bondage  and  given  life  to  the  wild  rapture 
of  applause  which  had  before  but  trembled  on  the  lip,  the 
wide  hall  rang  with  the  plaudits  and  enthusiastic  bravos  of 
the  spectators.  Barbarina  bowed  low  and  still  lower,  an 
expression  of  happy  triumph  playing  upou  her  glowing  face. 

"  I  have  never  seen  a  more  beautiful  woman,"  said  the 
king,  as  he  sank  back,  seemingly  exhausted,  in  his  chair. 

Queen  Elizabeth  pressed  her  lips  together,  to  suppress  a 
cry  of  pain.  She  had  heard  the  king's  words;  for  her  they 
had  a  deeper  meaning.  "  He  will  love  her,  I  know  it,  I  feel 
it !  "  she  said  to  herself  as  she  returned  after  this  eventful 
evening  to  Schonhausen.  "  Oh,  why  has  God  laid  upon  me 
this  new  trial,  this  new  humiliation?  Until  now,  no  one 
thought  the  less  of  me  because  I  was  not  loved  by  the  king. 
The  world  said,  '  The  king  loves  no  woman,  he  has  no  heart 
for  love.'  From  this  day  I  shall  be  despised  and  pitied. 
The  king  has  found  a  heart.  He  knows  now  that  he  has  not 
outlived  his  youth;  he  feels  that  he  is  young — that  he  is 
/young  in  heart,  young  in  love !  Oh,  my  God !  and  I  too  am 
young,  and  love ;  and  I  must  shroud  my  heart  in  resignation 
and  gloom." 

While  the  queen  was  pouring  out  her  complaints  and 
prayers  to  God,  the  Swedish  ambassador  was  confiding  his 
wrath  to  his  king.  He  wrote  to  his  sovereign,  and  repeated 
to  him  the  angry  and  abusive  words  of  the  little  Princess 
Amelia,  who  was  known  at  the  court  as  the  little  April  Fee. 
She  was  more  changeable  than  April,  and  more  stormy  and 
imperious  than  Frederick  himself.  He  painted  skilfully 
the  gentle  and  attractive  bearing  of  the  Princess  Ulrica, 
and  asked  for  permission  to  demand  the  hand  of  this  gra- 
cious and  noble  princess  for  Adolph  Frederick.  After  the 
ambassador  had  written  his  dispatches,  and  sent  them  by  a 
courier  to  the  Swedish  ship  lying  in  the  sound,  he  said  to 
himself,  with  a  triumphant  smile:  "Ah,  my  little  Princess 
Amelia,  this  is  a  royal  punishment  for  royal  impertinence. 
Yqu  weT^  pleased  to  tre^t  me  with  contempt,  but  you  did 


FREDERICK    THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.      Si 

not  know  that  I  could  avenge  myself  by  depriving  you  of  a 
kingdom.  Ah,  if  you  had  guessed  my  mission,  how  smiling- 
ly you  would  have  greeted  the  Count  Tessin !  " 

The  gentlemen  diplomatists  are  sometimes  outwitted. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ECKHOF. 

The  reader  has  learned,  from  the  foregoing  chapters, 
what  a  splendid  role  the  French  theatre  and  ballet  were  now 
playing  at  the  court  of  Berlin.  A  superb  house  had  been 
built  for  the  Italian  opera  and  the  ballet,  a  stage  had  been 
prepared  in  the  king's  palace  for  the  French  comedies,  and 
every  representation  was  honored  by  the  presence  of  the 
king,  the  royal  family,  and  the  court  circle.  The  most  cele- 
brated singers  of  Italy,  the  most  graceful  Parisian  dancers 
were  now  to  be  heard  and  seen  in  Berlin.  These  things 
assumed  such  vast  importance,  that  the  king  himself  ap- 
peared as  a  critic  in  the  daily  journals,  and  his  articles  were 
published  in  the  foreign  papers.  While  the  king  favored  the 
strange  actors  with  his  presence  and  his  grace,  the  German 
theatre,  like  a  despised  step-child,  was  given  over  to  misery 
and  contempt.  Compelled  to  seek  an  asylum  in  low  dark 
saloons,  its  actors  had  to  be  thankful  for  even  the  permission 
to  exist,  and  to  plead  with  ApoUo  and  the  Muses  for  aid 
and  applause.  The  king  and  the  so-called  good  society  de- 
spised them  altogether.  But  this  step-child  carried  under 
her  ashes  and  ragged  garments  the  golden  robes  of  her  fu- 
ture greatness;  her  cunning  step-sisters  had  cast  her  down 
into  obscurity  and  want,  but  she  Avas  not  extinguished;  she 
could  not  be  robbed  of  her  future !  Only  a  few  propitious 
circumstances  were  necessary  to  enable  her  to  shake  the 
dust  from  her  head,  and  bring  her  kingly  crown  to  light. 

The  king  had  given  Schonemein  permission  to  bring  his 
company  to  Berlin ;  and  by  a  happy  chance,  Schonemein  had 
engaged  the  young  and  talented  actor  Eckhof  for  the  season. 


g8  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

Eckhof  was  destined  to  give  renown  to  the  German  theatre; 
he  was  justly  called  the  first  and  greatest  actor  in  German.^'. 
Alas,  how  much  of  misery,  how  much  of  humiliation,  how 
many  choking  tears,  how  much  suffering  and  care,  how  much 
hunger  and  thirst  were  then  comprised  in  that  one  word,  a 
"  German  actor !  "  I^one  but  a  lost  or  despairing  man,  or 
an  enthusiast,  would  enroll  himself  as  a  German  actor;  only 
when  he  had  nothing  more  to  lose,  and  was  willing  to  burn 
his  ships  behind  him,  could  he  enter  upon  that  thorny  path. 
Religion  and  art  have  always  had  their  martyrs,  and  truly 
the  German  <•  tors  were  martyrs  in  the  time  of  Frederick 
the  Great.  Blessings  upon  those  who  did  not  despair,  and 
took  up  their  cross  patiently ! 

The  French  comedy  and  the  Italian  opera  flourished  like 
the  green  bay-tree.  The  German  actors  took  refuge  in  the 
saloon  of  the  Council-house.  The  lighting  up  of  the  Royal 
Opera-house  cost  two  hundred  and  seventy-seven  florins 
every  night.  The  misty  light  of  sweltering  oil  lamps  illu- 
minated the  poor  saloon  of  the  Council-house. 

The  audience  of  the  German  theatre  was  composed  of 
burghers,  philosophers,  poets,  bankers,  and  clerks — the  peo- 
ple of  the  middle  classes,  who  wore  no  white  plumes  in  their 
hats ;  they  were  indeed  allowed  to  enter  the  opera-house,  but 
through  a  side  passage,  and  their  boxes  were  entirely  sepa- 
rated from  those  of  the  court  circle.  These  people  of  the 
middle  classes  seemed  obscure  and  unimportant,  but  they 
were  educated  and  intelligent ;  even  then  they  were  a  power ; 
proud  and  independent,  they  could  not  be  bribed  by  flattery, 
nor  blinded  by  glitter  and  pomp.  They  judged  the  king  as 
they  judged  the  beggar,  the  philosopher  as  they  did  the 
artist,  and  they  judged  boldly  and  well. 

This  public  voice  had  declared  that  Eckhof  was  a  great 
tragedian,  who  rivalled  successfully  the  great  French  actor. 
Monsieur  Dennis.  This  public  voice,  though  but  the  voice 
of  the  people,  found  entrance  everywhere,  even  in  the  saloons 
of  the  nobles  and  cabinets  of  princes.  Berlin  resounded 
with  the  name  of  Eckhof,  who  dared  to  rival  the  French 
actor,  and  with  the  name  of  Schonemein,  who  dared,  every 
time  a  drama  of  Corneille  or  Racine,  of  Moliere  or  Voltaire, 
was  given  in  the  palace  theatre,  to  represent  the  same  in  the 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       89 

Council-house  on  the  following  evening.  This  was  a  good 
idea.  Those  who  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  witness  the 
performance  at  the  palace,  wished  to  compare  the  glittering 
spectacle  with  the  poor  caricature,  as  they  were  pleased 
to  call  it,  in  the  Council-house.  Those  whose  obscure  posi- 
tion prevented  them  from  entering  the  French  theatre, 
wished  at  least  to  see  the  play  which  had  enraptured  the 
king  and  court;  they  must  be  content  with  a  copy,  some- 
what like  the  hungry  beggar  who  stands  before  the  kitchen 
door,  and  refreshes  himself  by  smelling  the  roast  beef  he 
cannot  hope  to  taste.  But  there  was  still  a  third  class  who 
visited  the  German  theatre,  not  in  derision,  not  from  curi- 
osity, not  from  a  desire  to  imitate  the  nobles  in  their  amuse- 
ments, but  with  the  seemingly  Utopian  hope  of  building  up 
the  German  drama.  Amongst  these  were  the  scholars,  who 
pronounced  the  dramas  of  Gottsched  far  superior  to  those 
of  Corneille  and  Racine;  there  were  the  German  patriots, 
who  would  not  grant  a  smile  to  the  best  representation  of 
" Le  Malade  Imaginaire"  but  declared  "  The  Hypochon- 
driac," by  Guistorp,  the  wittiest  drama  in  the  world.  In 
short,  this  large  class  of  men  ranged  themselves  in  bold  op- 
position to  the  favoritism  shown  to  Frenchmen  by  Frederick 
the  Great.  These  were  the  elements  which  composed  the 
audience  in  the  Council-house. 

One  afternoon,  just  before  the  opening  of  the  theatre, 
two  young  men  were  walking  arm-in-arm  in  the  castle  court ; 
with  one  of  them  we  are  already  acquainted,  Joseph  Freders- 
dorf,  the  merry  student  of  Halle,  the  brother  of  the  private 
secretary — he  who  had  been  commissioned  to  seek  the  black 
ram,  for  the  propitiation  of  the  devil.  In  obedience  to  the 
command  of  the  secretary,  he,  with  ten  other  members  of 
this  unholy  alliance,  had  been  searching  in  every  quarter  for 
this  sacrifice.  Joseph  Fredersdorf,  indebted  to  fortune  or 
his  own  adroitness,  was  the  first  to  return  from  his  wander- 
ings, and  he  brought  with  him  a  black  ram,  on  whose  glossy 
coat  the  sharpest  eye  could  not  detect  one  white  hair. 

Fredersdorf,  and  Baron  Kleist,  the  husband  of  the  lovely 
Louise  von  Schwerin,  were  truly  happy,  and  paid  willingly 
some  hundred  thalers  for  this  coveted  object.  Indeed,  they 
considered  this  a  very  small  interest  to  pay  for  the  large 


00  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

capital  which  they  would  soon  realize.  They  were  the 
principal  leaders  in  the  secret  conspiracy  for  gold-making, 
and  many  other  most  distinguished  nobles,  generals,  and 
officers  belonged  to  the  society.  Fredersdorf  was  resolved 
to  fathom  this  mystery ;  he  wished  to  buy  himself  free  from 
his  service  to  the  king,  and  wed  the  woman  he  had  long  so 
passionately  loved.  Kleist  was  riotous  and  a  spendthrift; 
he  felt  that  gold  alone  would  enable  him  to  buy  smiles  and 
rapture  from  this  worn-out  and  wearisome  world.  Kleist 
and  his  beautiful  wife  required  money  in  large  measure; 
she  had  been  a  faithful  companion  and  aid — had  stood  by 
honestly  and  assisted  in  the  waste  of  her  own  property;  and 
now  they  were  compelled  to  confine  themselves  to  the  small 
income  of  captain  of  the  king's  guard. 

Joseph  laughed,  chatted,  and  jested  with  his  young  com- 
panion, who  walked  by  his  side  with  modest  and  downcast 
eyes.  Joseph  sometimes  put  his  hand  merrily  under  the 
dimpled  chins  of  the  rosy  servant-girls  who  passed  them  from 
time  to  time,  or  peeped  rather  impertinently  under  the  silk 
hoods  of  the  burgher  maidens;  his  companion  blushed  and 
took  no  part  in  these  bold  pastimes. 

"  Truly,"  said  Joseph,  "  if  I  did  not  have  in  my  i)Ocket  a 
letter  from  my  former  room-mate  at  Halle,  introducing  you 
as  a  manly,  brave  boy,  and  a  future  light  in  the  world  of 
science,  I  should  suspect  you  were  a  disguised  maiden;  you 
blush  like  a  girl,  and  are  as  timid  as  a  lamb  which  has  never 
left  its  mother's  side." 

"  I  am  a  villager,  a  poor  provincial,"  said  the  youth,  in  a 
somewhat  maidenly  voice.  "  The  manners  of  your  great 
city  embarrass  me.  I  admire  but  cannot  imitate  them.  I 
have  been  always  a  recluse,  a  dusty  book-worm." 

"A  learned  monster!"  cried  Joseph,  mockingly,  "who 
knows  and  understands  every  thing  except  the  art  of  enjoy- 
ing .life.    I  acknowledge  that  you  are  greatly  mysuperior,  but 

1  can  "instruct  you  in  that  science.  You  have  been  so  strongly 
commended  to  me  that  I  will  at  once  commence  to  unfold  to 
you  the  real,  satisfying,  duties  and  pleasures  of  life." 

^  I  fear,"  said  the  youth,  "  your  science  is  beyond  my 
ability.  I  have  no  organ  for  it.  My  father  is  a  celebrated 
physician  in  Quedlinburg ;  he  would  be  greatly  distressed  if 


FREDERICK  THE    GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.      91 

I  should  occupy  myself  with  any  thing  else  than  philosophy 
and  the  arts.  I  myself  have  so  little  inclination  and  so  little 
ability  for  the  enjoyment  of  mirth  and  pleasure,  that  I  dare 
not  exchange  the  world  of  books  for  the  world  of  men.  I  do 
not  understand  their  speech,  and  their  manners  are  strange* 
to  me." 

"  But,  without  doubt,  you  have  come  to  Berlin  to  learn 
something  of  these  things  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  come  to  visit  the  medical  college,  and  to 
speak  with  the  learned  and  renowned  Eiiler." 

"  Folly  and  nonsense !  "  said  Fredersdorf ,  laughing ; 
"  keep  your  dry  pursuits  for  Halle,  and  give  your  time  and 
attention  to  that  which  you  cannot  find  there,  gayety  and 
amusement.  I  promise  to  be  your  counsellor  and  comrade. 
Let  us  begin  our  studies  at  once.  Do  you  see  that  little 
theatre-bill  fastened  to  the  wall?  Eckhof  appears  as  Cato 
to-night." 

"  Go  to  the  theatre !  "  said  Lupinus,  shrinkingly.  "  How ! 
I  go  to  the  theatre  ? " 

"  And  why  not,  friend  ?  "  said  Joseph.  "  Perhaps  you 
belong  to  the  pietists,  who  look  upon  the  stage  as  the  mother 
of  blasphemy  and  sin,  and  who  rail  at  our  noble  king  because 
he  will  not  close  these  houses  ?  " 

"  ISTo,  I  do  not  belong  to  the  pietists,"  said  the  youth,  with 
a  sad  smile,  "  and  I  try  to  serve  God,  by  understanding  and 
admiring  His  works:  that  is  my  religion." 

"  Well,  it  seems  to  mo  that  this  faith  does  not  forbid  you 
to  enter  the  theatre.  If  it  pleases  you  to  study  God's  mas- 
ter-work, I  promise  to  show  you  this  night  on  the  stage  the 
noblest  exemplar.     Eckhof  plays  this  evening." 

"Who,  then,  is  Eckhof?" 

Josejjh  looked  at  the  young  man  with  surprise,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders  contemptuously. 

"  You  have,  indeed,  been  greatly  neglected,  and  it  was 
high  time  you  should  come  to  me.  You  do  not  know,  then, 
that  Eckhof  is  the  first  tragedian  who  has  dared  to  set  aside 
the  old  and  absurd  dress  and  manners  of  the  stage,  and  in- 
troduce real,  living,  feeling  men,  of  like  passions  with  our- 
selves, and  who  move  and  speak  even  as  we  do.  Now  we 
must  certainly  enter  the  theatre;  look  there,  at  that  great 


02  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

crowd  entering  the  dark  and  lowly  entrance.  Let  us  remove 
our  hats  reverentially;  we  stand  before  the  temple  of  art." 
So  saying,  he  drew  the  young  man,  who  had  no  longer  cour- 
age to  resist,  into  the  house.  "  This  is  Eckhof's  benefit. 
You  see  the  great  tragedian  has  many  admirers ;  it  seems  to 
me  that  half  of  Berlin  has  come  to  bring  him  tribute  this 
evening." 

Lupinus  sat  silent  and  confused  in  the  parterre,  near 
Joseph.  There  was  a  row  of  seats  slightly  elevated  and 
made  of  common  plank,  called  loges ;  one  of  these  nearest 
the  stage  was  adorned  by  a  golden  eagle,  from  which  some 
pitiful  drapery  was  suspended;  this  was  called  the  king's 
loge,  but,  I  am  constrained  to  say,  it  had  never  been  visited 
by  the  king  or  any  member  of  the  royal  family.  The  royal 
loge  was  indeed  empty,  but  the  great  body  of  the  house  was 
fearfully  crowded,  and  many  an  expression  of  pain  was 
heard  from  those  who  were  closely  pressed  and  almost 
trampled  upon. 

"  It  is  fortunate  for  you  that  Eckhof  appears  as  Cato  to- 
night: it  is  his  best  role.  Perhaps  your  learned  soul  may 
be  somewhat  reconciled  to  such  vanities  when  you  see  a 
drama  of  Gottsched,  and  a  hero  of  the  old  and  classic  time." 

"  Yes,  but  will  not  your  Eckhof  make  a  vile  caricature  of 
the  noble  Roman  ?  "  sighed  Lupinus. 

"  You  are  a  pedant,  and  I  trust  the  Muses  will  revenge 
themselves  upon  you  this  night,"  said  Joseph,  angrily.  "  I 
prophesy  that  you  will  become  this  evening  a  wild  enthusi- 
ast for  Eckhof :  that  is  always  the  punishment  for  those  who 
come  as  despisers  and  doubters.  If  you  were  a  girl,  I 
should  know  that  you  would  be  passionately  in  love  with 
Eckhof  before  you  slept;  you  have  taken  the  first  step,  by 
hating  him." 

Joseph  said  this  thoughtlessly,  and  did  not  remark  the 
deep  impression  his  words  made  upon  the  stranger.  His 
face  flushed,  and  his  head  sank  upon  his  breast.  Joseph 
saw  nothing  of  this.  At  this  moment  the  curtain  rose  and 
the  piece  began. 

A  breathless  silence  reigned  throughout  the  vast  crowd; 
every  eye  was  fixed  upon  the  stage;  and  now,  with  a  stately 
step  and  a  Roman  toga  falling  in  artistic  folds  from  his 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       93 

shoulders,  Eckliof  as  Cato  stood  before  them.  Every  thing 
about  him  was  antique;  his  noble  and  proud  bearing,  his 
firm  and  measured  step,  his  slow  but  easy  movements,  even 
the  form  of  his  head  and  the  expression  of  his  finely-cut 
features,  were  eminently  classic.  He  was  the  complete  and 
perfect  picture  of  an  old  Roman;  nothing  was  forgotten. 
The  sandals,  laced  with  red  over  the  powerful  and  well- 
formed  leg;  the  white  under-garment  and  leathern  girdle, 
the  blue  toga,  the  cut  of  his  hair,  every  thing  brought  be- 
fore you  the  noble  Roman,  the  son  of  Liberty,  imposing  in 
his  majesty  and  power. 

Eckhof  was  the  first  who  had  the  courage  to  clothe  his 
characters  in  the  costume  of  the  time  they  represented,  to 
make  them  move  and  speak  simply  as  men.  Eckhof  did  that 
for  the  German  stage  which  some  years  later  Talma  intro- 
duced on  the  French  boards.  Talma  was  only  a  copyist  of 
Eckhof,  but  this  fact  was  not  acknowledged,  because  at  that 
time  the  German  stage  had  not  won  for  itself  the  sympathy 
and  consideration  of  other  nations. 

As  I  have  said,  silence  reigned,  and  from  time  to  time 
the  rapture  of  applause,  which  could  not  be  altogether  sup- 
pressed, was  evidenced  by  thundering  bravos.  Then  again 
all  was  still;  every  eye  and  every  ear  were  open  to  the 
great  actor,  true  to  himself  and  true  to  nature;  who,  glow- 
ing with  enthusiasm,  had  cast  his  whole  soul  into  his  part; 
who  had  forgotten  the  line  separating  imagination  from 
reality;  who  had,  indeed,  ceased  to  be  Eckhof,  and  felt  and 
thought  and  spoke  as  Cato.  At  the  close  of  an  act,  Eckhof 
was  forced  to  come  forward  and  show  himself  by  the  wild 
the  stormy  applause  and  loud  cries  of  the  audience. 

"  Do  you  not  find  him  beyond  all  praise  ? "  said  Freders- 
dorf. 

Lupinus  gazed  steadily  at  the  stage;  he  had  only  soul, 
breath,  hearing,  for  Eckhof.  His  old  world  had  passed 
away  like  a  misty  dream — a  new  world  surrounded  him. 
The  olden  time,  the  olden  time  to  which  he  had  consecrated 
years  of  study  and  of  thought,  to  which  he  had  offered  up 
his  sleep  and  all  the  pleasures  of  youth,  had  now  become  a 
reality  for  him.  He  who  stood  upon  the  stage  was  Cato; 
that  was  the  Roman  forum;  there  were  the  proud  temples. 


94  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

and  the  dwelling-houses  consecrated  by  their  household 
gods.  There  was,  then,  outside  of  the  world  of  books  and 
letters,  another  world  of  light  and  gladness !  What  was  it, 
which  made  his  heart  beat  and  tremble  so  powerfully?  why 
did  his  blood  rush  so  madly  through  his  veins?  A  dark 
veil  had  fallen  from  his  face ;  all  around  him  were  life,  light, 
gladness,  and  rapture.  With  trembling  lips  and  silent  tears 
he  said  to  himself :  "  I  will  live ;  I  will  be  young ;  I  will 
turn  to  Eckhof ;  he  shall  counsel  me,  and  I  will  follow  his 
advice  as  I  would  a  holy  gospel. — Did  you  not  say  that  you 
knew  Cato  ?  "  said  he,  suddenly  awaking  from  his  dream  and 
turning  to  his  companion. 

"Cato?"  said  Fredersdorf.  "Do  you  mean  the  drama, 
or  that  wearisome  old  fellow  himself?  or  Eckhof,  who  plays 
the  part  of  Cato  ?  " 

"So  it  is  Eckhof,"  said  Lupinus,  to  himself;  "he  is 
called  Eckhof?" 

The  play  was  at  an  end ;  the  curtain  fell  for  the  last  time, 
and  now  the  long-suppressed  enthusiasm  burst  forth  in  wild 
and  deafening  applause.  The  young  stranger  was  silent, 
his  eyes  were  full  of  tears;  and  yet  he  was  perhaps  the 
happiest  of  them  all,  and  these  rapturous  tears  were  a  loftier 
tribute  to  the  great  actor  than  the  loudest  bravos.  The 
people  had  passed  a  happy  evening,  and  common  cares  and 
sorrows  had  been  forgotten ;  but  Lupinus  felt  as  if  his  heart 
had  risen  from  the  dead:  he  was  changed  from  old  age 
to  sunny  youth;  he  had  suddenly  discovered  in'  himself 
something  new,  something  never  suspected — a  glowing,  lov- 
ing heart. 

"  Well,  now  I  am  resolved,  wholly  resolved,"  said  Joseph, 
as  they  forced  their  way  through  the  crowd.  "  I  no  longer 
hesitate ;  I  give  up  to  you  your  dry  learning  and  philosophy ; 
you  are  welcome  to  your  dusty  books  and  your  imposing 
cues.     I  will  be  an  actor." 

"  Ha !  an  actor  ?  "  said  Lupinus,  awaking  from  his  dream 
and  trembling  violently. 

"  Why  are  you  shocked  at  my  words  ?  I  suppose  you  de- 
spise me  because  of  this  decision;  but  what  do  I  care?  I 
will  be  an  artiste;  I  shall  not  be  distiarbed  by  the  turncd- 
up  noses  and  derisive  shrugs  of  you  wise  ones.    I  ^ill  be  a 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       95 

scholar  of  Eckhof;  so  despise  me,  my  learned  Lupinus — I 
give  you  permission." 

"  I  am  not  laughing,"  said  Lupinus.  "  Each  one  must 
walk  in  that  path  at  the  end  of  which  he  hopes  to  find  his 
ideal." 

"  Yes,  truly,  and  so  I  will  go  to  Eckhof,"  said  Treders- 
dorf,  waving  his  hat  triumphantly  in  the  air, 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  dwells  ?  "  said  the  youth. 

"  Certainly.  We  are  standing  now  just  before  his  door. 
See  there  in  the  third  story,  those  two  lighted  windows? 
That  is  Eckhof's  home." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  this  street  ?  " 

"  What  is  that  to  you  ?  Has  my  prophecy  really  come 
true,  and  are  you  in  love  with  the  great  actor?  Do  not  let 
go  my  arm;  do  not  turn  away  from  me  angrily.  The  Post 
Strasse  is  a  long  way  off  from  where  you  dwell;  you  will 
lose  yourself.  Let  us  go  together.  I  will  risk  no  more  un- 
seemly jests  with  you.     Come !  " 

"  He  lives  in  the  Post  Strasse ;  he  is  called  Eckhof,"  said 
Lupinus  to  himself,  as  he  took  Joseph's  arm  and  walked 
through  the  dark  streets.  "I  must  see  Eckhof;  he  shall 
decide  my  fate." 


CHAPTEK  XL 

A  LIFE   QUESTION. 

It  was  the  morning  after  Eckhof's  benefit.  The  usually 
quiet  dwelling  of  the  actor  resounded  with  the  ringing  of 
glasses  and  merry  songs  after  the  toils  and  fatigues  of  the 
evening.  He  wished  to  afford  to  himself  and  his  comrades 
a  little  distraction ;  to  give  to  the  hungry  sons  of  the  Muses 
and  Graces  a  few  hours  of  simple  enjoyment,  Eckhof's 
purse  was  full  and  he  wished  to  divide  its  contents  with  his 
friends.  * 

"  Drink  and  be  merry,"  said  he  to  his  gay  companions. 
"  Let  us  forget  for  a  few  hours  that  we  are  poor,  despised 
German  eictors,    We  will  drink,  and  picture  tQ  Qwraelve^ 


96  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

that  we  belong  to  the  cherished  and  celebrated  artistes  of 
the  French  stage,  on  whom  the  Germans  so  willingly  shower 
gold,  honor,  and  even  love.  Raise  your  glasses,  and  drink 
with  me  to  the  success  of  German  art !  " 

"  We  will  drink  also  to  Eckhof ,"  cried  one  of  the  youth- 
ful company,  raising  his  glass.  "  Yes,  to  the  father  of  the 
new  school  of  German  acting," 

"  You  are  that,  Eckhof,  and  you  are  also  our  benefactor," 
said  another.  "  We  thank  you,  that  for  some  months  we 
have  not  suffered  from  hunger  and  thirst ;  that  the  good  peo- 
ple of  Berlin  take  an  interest  in  the  German  stage,  and 
treat  us  with  some  consideration.  Let  us,  then,  drink  to  our 
preserver,  to  the  great  Eckhof !  " 

Every  glass  was  raised,  and  their  shouts  rang  out  mer- 
rily. Eckhof  alone  was  sad  and  troubled,  and  his  great 
dreamy  eyes  gazed  thoughtfully  in  the  distance.  His  friends 
observed  this,  and  questioned  him  as  to  the  cause  of  his 
melancholy. 

"  I  am  not  melancholy,  though  a  German  actor  has  al- 
ways good  reason  to  be  so ;  but  I  have  some  new  plans  which 
I  wish  to  disclose  to  you.  You  greet  me  as  your  benefactor. 
Alas !  how  suffering,  how  pitiful  must  your  condition  be,  if 
such  a  man  as  I  am  can  have  been  useful  to  you !  You  are  all 
artistes,  and  I  say  this  to  you  from  honest  conviction,  and 
not  from  contemptible  flattery.  You  are  greater  in  your  art 
than  I  am,  only  you  had  not  the  courage  to  break  through 
the  old  and  absurd  customs  of  your  predecessors.  That  I 
have  done  this,  that  I  have  dared  to  leave  the  beaten  paths, 
is  the  only  service  I  have  rendered.  I  have  tried  to  banish 
from  the  stage  the  crazy  fools  who  strutted  from  side  to 
side,  and  waved  their  arms  from  right  to  left;  who  tried 
to  play  the  orator  by  uttering  their  pathetic  phrases  in  weird, 
solemn  sounds  from  the  throat,  or  trumpeted  them  through 
the  nose.  I  have  placed  living  men  upon  the  boards,  who 
by  natural  speech  and  action  lend  truth  and  reality  to  the 
scenes  they  wish  to  portray.  You,  comrades,  have  assisted 
me  faithfully  in  this  effort.  We  are  in  the  right  iJath,  but 
we  are  far  from  the  goal.  Let  us  go  forward,  then,  brave- 
ly and  hopefully.  You  think  yourselves  happy  now  in  Ber- 
lin; but  I  say  to  you  that  we  dare  not  remain  in  Berlin. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.      97 

This  vegetation,  this  bare  permission  to  live,  does  not  suffice, 
will  not  satisfy  our  honor.  I  think,  with  Caesar,  it  is  better 
to  be  the  first  in  a  village  than  the  second  or  third  in  a  great 
city.  We  will  leave  Berlin;  this  cold,  proud,  imperious 
Berlin,  which  cherishes  the  stranger,  but  has  no  kind,  cheer- 
ing word  for  her  own  countrymen.  Let  us  turn  our  backs 
upon  these  French  worshippers,  and  go  as  missionaries  for 
the  German  drama  throughout  our  fatherland." 

A  long  pause  followed  this  speech  of  Eckhof ;  every  eye 
was  thoughtful,  every  face  was  troubled. 

"  You  do  not  answer  ?     I  have  not,  then,  convinced  you  ?  " 

"  Shall  we  leave  Berlin  now,"  said  the  hero  and  lover  of 
the  little  company,  "  even  now,  when  they  begin  to  show  a 
little  interest,  a  little  enthusiasm  for  us  ? " 

"  Alas,  friend !  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Berliners  for  us 
is  like  a  fire  of  straw — it  flashes  and  is  extinguished ;  to-day, 
perhaps,  they  may  applaud  us,  to-morrow  we  will  be  for^ 
gotten,  because  a  learned  sparrow  or  hound,  a  French  dan- 
cer, or  an  Italian  singer,  occupies  their  attention.  There 
is  neither  endurance  nor  constancy  in  the  Berliners.  Let 
us  go  hence." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  we  should  make  use  of  the  good 
time  while  it  lasts,"  said  another.  "At  present,  our  daily 
bread  is  secured  for  ourselves  and  our  families." 

"  If  you  are  not  willing  to  endure  suffering  and  want,** 
said  Eckhof,  sadly,  "  you  will  never  be  true  artistes.  Poverty 
and  necessity  will  be  for  a  long  time  to  come  the  only  faith- 
ful companions  of  the  German  actor;  and  he  who  has  not 
courage  to  take  them  to  his  arms,  would  do  better  to  be- 
come an  honest  tailor  or  a  shoemaker.  If  the  prosperity 
of  your  family  is  your  first  consideration,  why  have  you 
not  contented  yourselves  with  honest  daily  labor,  with 
being  virtuous  fathers  of  families?  The  pursuit  of  art 
does  not  accord  with  these  things;  if  you  choose  the 
one,  you  must,  for  a  while  at  least,  be  separated  from  the 
other." 

"  That  will  we  do,"  cried  Fredersdorf,  who  had  just  en- 
tered the  room ;  "  I,  for  my  part,  have  already  set  you  all  a 
good  example.  I  have  separated  from  my  family,  in  order 
to  become  the  husband  of  Art,  whose  sighing  and  ardent 


98  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

lover  I  have  long  been;  and  now,  if  the  noble  Eckhof  does 
not  reject  me  as  a  scholar,  I  am  wholly  yours." 

Eckhof  seized  his  hand,  and  said,  with  a  soft  smile,  "  I 
receive  you  joyfully;  you  have  the  true  fire  of  inspiration. 
From  my  heart  I  say  you  are  welcome." 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  word — and  now  let  us  be  off.  The 
German  actor  is  in  Germany  no  better  than  the  Jew  was  to 
the  Romans.  Let  us  do  as  the  Jews:  we  have  also  found 
our  Moses,  who  will  lead  us  to  the  promised  land,  where  we 
shall  find  liberty,  honor,  and  gold." 

"  Yes,"  they  cried,  with  one  voice,  "  we  will  follow  Eck- 
hof, we  will  obey  our  master,  we  will  leave  Berlin  and  seek 
a  city  where  we  shall  be  truly  honored." 

"  I  have  found  the  city,"  said  Eckhof ;  "  we  will  go  to 
Halle.  The  wise  men  who  have  consecrated  their  lives  to 
knowledge  are  best  fitted  to  appreciate  and  treasure  the  true 
artiste ;  we  will  unite  with  them,  and  our  efforts  will  trans- 
form Halle  into  an  Athens,  where  knowledge  and  art  shall 
walk  hand-in-hand  in  noble  emulation." 

"  Off,  then,  for  Halle !  "  said  Fredersdorf ,  waving  his 
hat  in  the  air,  but  his  voice  was  less  firm,  and  his 
eye  was  troubled.  "  Will  the  director,  Schonemein,  con- 
sent?" 

"  Schonemein  has  resolved  to  go  with  us,  provided  we 
make  no  claim  for  salaries,  but  will  share  with  him  both 
gains  and  losses." 

"  If  the  undertaking  fails  in  Halle,  we  must  starve, 
then,"  said  a  trembling  voice. 

Eckliof  said  nothing ;  he  crossed  the  room  to  his  writing- 
table,  and  took  out  a  well-filled  purse.  "  I  do  not  say  that 
we  shall  succeed  in  Halle,  that  is,  succeed  as  the  merchants 
and  Jews  do ;  we  go  as  missionaries,  resolved  to  bear  hunger 
and  thirst,  if  need  be,  for  the  cause  we  love  and  believe  in. 
Look,  this  purse  contains  what  remains  of  my  profits  from 
the  last  two  months  and  from  my  benefit  last  night.  It  is 
all  I  have ;  take  it  and  divide  it  amongst  you.  It  will,  at 
least,  suffice  to  support  you  all  for  one  month." 

"  Will  you  accept  this  ? "  said  Joseph,  with  glowing 
cheeks. 

"  No,  we  will  not  accept  it ;  what  we  do  we  will  do  freely, 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.       99 

and  no  man  shall  fetter  us  by  his  generosity  or  magnanimity, 
not  even  Eckhof." 

Eckhof  was  radiant  with  joy,  "  Hear,  now — I  have  an- 
other proposition  to  make.  You  have  refused  my  offer  for 
yourselves,  but  you  dare  not  refuse  it  for  your  children; 
take  this  money  and  divide  it  equally  amongst  your  wives 
and  children.  With  this  gold  you  shall  buy  yourselves  free 
for  a  while  from  your  families." 

After  a  long  and  eloquent  persuasion,  Eckhofs  offer  was 
accepted,  and  divided  fairly.  He  looked  on  with  a  kindly 
smile. 

"  I  now  stand  exactly  as  I  did  when  I  resolved  two  years 
ago  to  be  an  actor.  Before  that  I  was  an  honest  clerk;  from 
day  to  day  I  vegetated,  and  thanked  God,  when,  after  eight 
hours'  hard  work,  I  could  enjoy  a  little  fresh  air  and  the 
evening  sunshine,  and  declaim  to  the  fields  and  groves  my 
favorite  lines  from  the  great  authors.  It  is  probable  I 
should  still  have  been  a  poor  clerk  and  a  dreamer,  if  my  good 
genius  had  not  stood  by  me  and  given  me  a  powerful  blow, 
which  awakened  me  from  dreaming  to  active  life.  The 
justice  of  the  peace,  whose  clerk  I  was,  commanded  me  to 
serve  behind  his  carriage  as  a  footman;  this  aroused  my 
anger  and  my  self-respect,  and  I  left  him,  determined  rather 
to  die  of  hunger  than  to  submit  to  such  humiliation.  My 
good  genius  was  again  at  hand,  and  gave  me  courage  to  fol- 
low the  promptings  of  my  heart,  and  become  an  actor.  He 
who  will  be  great  has  the  strength  to  achieve  greatness.  Let 
us  go  onward,  then,  with  bold  hearts."  He  gave  his  hand  to 
his  friends  and  dismissed  them,  warning  them  to  prepare 
for  their  journey. 

"  You  are  determined  to  go  to  Halle  ?  "  said  Fredersdorf , 
who  had  remained  behind  for  the  last  greeting. 

"We  will  go  to  Halle;  it  is  the  seat  of  the  Muses,  and 
belongs,  therefore,  to  us." 

Joseph  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  I  know  Halle,"  said  he. 
"  You  call  it  the  seat  of  the  Muses.  I  know  it  only  as  the 
seat  of  pedantry.  You  will  soon  know  and  confess  this. 
There  is  nothing  more  narrow-minded,  jealous,  arrogant, 
and  conceited  than  a  Halle  professor.  He  sees  no  merit  in 
any  thing  but  himself  and  a  few  old  dusty  Greeks  and  Ko- 
1 


100  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

mans,  and  even  these  are  only  great  because  the  professoi 
of  Halle  has  shown  them  the  honor  to  explain  and  descant 
upon  them.  But,  you  are  resolved — I  would  go  with  you 
to  prison  and  to  death;  in  short,  I  will  follow  you  to  Halle." 

"  And  now  I  am  at  last  alone,"  said  Eckhof ;  "  now  I 
must  study  my  new  role;  now  stand  by  me,  ye  gods,  and  in- 
spire me  with  your  strength;  give  me  the  right  tone,  the 
right  emphasis  to  personate  this  rare  and  wonderful  Hip- 
polytus,  with  which  I  hope  to  win  the  stern  professors  of 
Halle!" 

Walking  backward  and  forward,  he  began  to  declaim  the 
proud  and  eloquent  verses  of  Corneille;  he  was  so  thorough- 
ly absorbed  that  he  did  not  hear  the  oft-repeated  knock  upon 
the  door ;  he  did  not  even  see  that  the  door  was  softly  opened, 
and  the  young  Lupinus  stood  blushing  upon  the  threshold.  He 
stood  still  and  listened  with  rapture  to  the  pathetic  words  of 
the  great  actor;  and  as  Eckhof  recited  the  glowing  and  in- 
nocent confession  of  love  made  by  Hippolytus,  a  burning 
blush  suffused  the  cheek  of  the  young  student,  and  his  eyes 
were  filled  with  tears.  He  overcame  his  emotion,  and  ad- 
vanced to  Eckhof,  who  was  now  standing  before  the  glass, 
studying  the  attitude  which  would  best  accord  with  this 
passionate  declaration. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  with  a  low  and  trembling  voice,  "  pardon 
me  for  disturbing  you.  I  was  told  that  I  should  find  Eckhof 
in  this  room,  and  it  is  most  important  to  me  to  see  and  con- 
sult with  this  great  man.  I  know  this  is  his  dwelling;  be 
kind  enough  to  tell  me  if  he  is  within." 

"  This  is  his  home,  truly,  but  he  is  neither  a  great  nor  a 
wise  man;  only  and  simply  Eckhof  the  actor." 

"  I  did  not  ask  your  opinion  of  the  distinguished  man 
whom  I  honor,  but  only  where  I  can  find  him." 

"  Tell  me  first  what  you  want  of  Eckhof." 

"  What  I  want  of  him,  sir  ? "  said  the  youth,  thought- 
fully ;  "  I  scarcely  know  myself.  There  is  a  mystery  in  my 
soul  which  I  cannot  fathom.  Eckhof  has  age,  wisdom,  and 
experience — perhaps  he  can  enlighten  me.  I  have  faith  in 
his  eyes  and  in  his  silver  beard,  and  I  can  say  freely  to  him 
what  I  dare  not  say  to  any  other." 

Eckhof  laughed  merrily.     "As  to  his  white  beard,  you 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    101 

will  find  that  in  his  wardrobe;  his  wisdom  you  will  find  in 
the  books  of  the  authors,  to  whose  great  thoughts  he  has 
only  given  voice;  he  is  neither  old,  wise,  nor  experienced. 
In  short — I,  myself,  am  Eckhof." 

"  You  are  Eckhof !  "  said  Lupinus,  turning  deadly  pale, 
and,  steping  back  a  few  paces,  he  stared  with  distended  eyes 
at  the  actor,  whose  noble  and  intellectual  face,  glowing  with 
youthful  fire,  was  turned  toward  him. 

"  I  am  Eckhof,  and  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  for  being 
a  little  younger,  a  little  browner,  and  somewhat  less  wise 
than  the  great  Cato,  in  which  character  you  no  doubt  saw  me 
last  night.  I  dare  hope  that  my  confession  will  not  shake  your 
confidence  in  me;  with  my  whole  heart  I  beg  you  Vv'ill  tell 
me  how  I  can  be  useful  to  you  and  what  mystery  you  wish 
to  have  explained." 

"  No,  no !  I  cannot  explain,"  cried  the  youth ;  "  forgive 
me  for  having  disturbed  you.  I  have  nothing  more  to  say." 
Confused  and  ashamed,  Lupinus  left  the  room.  The  actor 
gazed  after  him  wonderingly,  convinced  that  he  had  been 
closeted  with  a  madman. 

With  trembling  heart,  scarcely  knowing  what  he  thought 
or  did,  the  student  reached  his  room  and  closed  the  door, 
and  throwing  himself  upon  his  knees,  he  cried  out  in  tones 
of  anguish :  "  Oh,  my  God !  I  have  seen  Eckhof :  he  is 
young,  he  is  glorious  in  beauty,  unhappy  that  I  am !  "  With 
his  hands  folded  and  still  upon  his  knees,  he  gazed  dreamily 
in  the  distance;  then  springing  up  suddenly,  his  eyes  glow- 
ing with  energy  and  passion,  he  cried :  "  I  must  go,  I  must 
go!  I  will  return  to  Halle,  to  my  books  and  my  quiet  room; 
it  is  lonely,  but  there  I  am  at  peace;  there  the  world  and 
the  voice  of  Eckhof  cannot  enter.  I  must  forget  this  wild 
awakening  of  my  youth;  my  heart  must  sleep  again  and 
dream,  and  be  buried  at  last  under  the  dust  of  books.  Un- 
happy that  I  am,  I  feel  that  the  past  is  gone  forever.  I  stand 
trembling  on  the  borders  of  a  new  existence.  I  will  go  at  once 
— perhaps  there  is  yet  time;  perhaps  I  may  yet  escape  the 
wretchedness  which  threatens  me.  Oh!  in  my  books  and 
studies  I  may  forget  all.  I  may  no  longer  hear  this  voice, 
w^hich  is  forever  sounding  in  my  enraptured  ears,  no  longer 
see  those  fearful  but  wondrous  eyes." 


102  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

With  feverish  haste  and  trembling  hands  he  made  up  his 
little  parcel.  A  few  hours  later  the  post-wagon  rolled  by 
Eckhof's  dwelling.  A  young  man  with  pale,  haggard  face 
and  tearful  eyes  gazed  up  at  his  windows. 

"  Farewell,  Eckhof ,"  murmured  he ;  "  I  flee  from  you, 
but  may  God  bless  you!  I  go  to  Halle;  there  I  shall  never 
see  you,  my  heart  shall  never  thrill  at  the  sound  of  your 
eloquent  voice." 

Lupinus  leaned  sadly  back  in  the  carriage,  comforting 
himself  with  the  conviction  that  he  was  safe;  but  fate  was  too 
strong  for  him,  and  the  danger  from  which  he  so  bravely  fled, 
followed  him  speedily. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

SUPERSTITION  AND  PIETY. 

The  goal  was  at  last  reached.  The  black  ram  for  the 
propitiatory  offering  was  found,  and  was  now  awaiting  in 
Berlin  the  hour  of  sacrifice. 

With  what  eager  impatience,  with  what  throbbing  pulses, 
did  Eredersdorf  wait  for  the  evening!  At  last  this  sublime 
mystery  would  be  explained,  and  rivers  of  gold  would  flow 
at  his  command.  Happily,  the  king  was  not  in  Berlin — he 
had  gone  to  Charlottenburg.  Eredersdorf  was  free — lord 
of  himself. 

"  And  after  to-morrow,  it  will  be  ever  the  same,"  said  he 
to  himself  joyfully.  "  To-morrow  the  world  will  belong  to 
me!  I  Vv'ill  not  envy  the  king  his  crown,  the  scholar  his 
learning,  or  youth  and  beauty  their  bloom.  I  shall  be  more 
powerful,  more  honored,  more  beloved  than  them  all.  I 
shall  possess  an  inexhaustible  fountain  of  gold.  Gold  is  the 
lord  and  king  of  the  world.  The  king  and  the  philosopher, 
youth,  beauty,  and  grace,  bow  down  before  its  shrine. 
Oh,  what  a  life  of  gladness  and  rapture  will  be  mine!  I 
shall  be  at  liberty.  I  shall  wed  the  woman  I  adore.  The 
sun  is  sinking;  the  moon  will  soon  ride  triumphantly  in  the 
heavens,  and  then — " 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    lo3 

A  light  rustling  on  the  tapestry  door  interrupted  him; 
and  he  turned  anxiously  toward  this  door,  which  led  directly 
to  the  chamber  of  the  king,  and  through  which  he  alone 
could  enter.  It  was  indeed  Frederick.  He  entered  the  room 
of  his  private  secretary  with  a  bright,  gay  smile. 

"  I  have  come  unexpectedly,"  said  the  king.  His  clear, 
piercing  glance  instantly  remarked  the  cloud  which  lowered 
upon  the  brow  of  Fredersdorf .  "  But  what  will  you  have  i 
The  King  and  Fate,  as  Deus  ex  machind,  appear  without 
warning  and  confuse  the  calculations  of  insignificant  mor- 
tals." 

"I  have  made  no  calculations,  sire,"  said  Fredersdorf, 
confused ;  "  and  the  presence  of  my  king  can  never  disturb 
my  peace." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  Frederick,  smiling.  "  Well, 
I  have  made  my  calculations,  and  you,  Fredersdorf,  have  an 
important  part  to  play.  We  have  a  great  work  on  hand, 
and  if  you  have  set  your  heart  upon  being  at  liberty  this 
evening,  I  regret  it;  the  hope  is  a  vain  one.  This  evening 
you  are  the  prisoner  of  your  king." 

The  king  said  this  with  so  grave,  so  peculiar,  and  at  the 
same  time  so  kindly  an  expression,  that  Fredersdorf  was  in- 
voluntarily touched  and  softened,  and  he  pressed  his  lips 
warmly  upon  the  hand  which  Frederick  held  out  to  him. 

"  We  must  work  diligently,"  said  the  king.  "  The  time 
of  idleness  is  past,  and  also  the  time  consecrated  to  the 
Muses.  Soon  I  will  lay  my  flute  in  its  case,  and  draw  my 
sword  from  its  scabbard.  It  appears  that  my  godmother, 
Maria  Theresa,  thinks  it  unseemly  for  a  King  of  Prussia  to 
pass  his  days  elsewhere  than  in  a  tented  field,  or  to  hear 
other  music  than  the  sound  of  trumpet  or  the  thunder  of 
cannon  calling  loudly  to  battle.  Well,  if  Austria  will  have 
war,  she  shall  have  it  promptly.  Never  will  Prussia  yield 
to  her  imperious  conditions,  and  never  will  the  house  of 
Hohenzollern  subject  herself  to  the  house  of  Hapsburg.  My 
godmother,  the  empress,  can  never  forget  that  the  Prince- 
Elector  of  Brandenburg  once,  at  the  table,  held  a  wash- 
basin for  the  emperor.  For  this  reason  she  always  regards 
us  as  cavaliere  servente  to  the  house  of  Hapsburg.  Xow,  by 
the  help  of  England,  Saxony,  and  Russia,  she  hopes  to  bring 


104  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

us  under  the  old  yoke.  But  she  shall  not  succeed.  She 
has  made  an  alliance  with  England,  Kussia,  and  Saxony. 
I  have  united  with  France  and  Bavaria,  for  the  protection  of 
Charles  the  Seventh.  This,  you  see,  Fredersdorf,  is  war. 
Our  life  of  fantasy  and  dreaming  is  over.  I  have  given 
you  a  little  dish  of  politics,"  said  the  king,  after  a  pause. 
"  I  wish  to  show  you  that  I  have  need  of  you,  and  that  we 
have  much  to  do.  We  must  arrange  my  private  accounts, 
we  have  many  letters  to  write ;  and  then  we  must  select 
and  prepare  the  rich  presents  to  be  given  to  the  Princess 
Ulrica  on  her  marriage.  Fredersdorf,  we  cannot  afford  to 
be  idle." 

"  I  shall  be  ready  at  all  times  to  obey  the  commands  of 
my  king.  I  will  work  the  entire  night;  but  I  pray  your 
majesty  to  grant  me  a  few  hours  this  evening — I  have  most 
important  business,  which  cannot  be  postponed." 

"  Ah !  without  doubt,  you  wish  to  finish  the  epistle  of 
Horace,  of  which  we  spoke  a  few  days  since.  If  I  remember 
correctly,  this  epistle  relates  to  the  useless  offering  of  a 
lamb  or  black  ram.  Well,  I  give  up  this  translation  for  the 
present;  we  have  no  time  for  it;  and  I  cannot  possibly  give 
you  leave  of  absence  this  evening." 

"  And  yet  I  dare  to  repeat  my  request,"  said  Fredersdorf, 
with  passionate  excitement.  "  Sire,  my  business  cannot  be 
postponed,  and  I  beseech  you  to  grant  me  a  few  hours." 

"  If  you  will  not  yield  to  the  earnest  wish  of  your  friend, 
you  will  be  forced  to  submit  to  the  command  of  your  king," 
said  Frederick,  sternly.  "  I  forbid  you  to  leave  your  room 
this  evening." 

"  Have  pity,  sire,  I  entreat  you !  I  wish  but  for  two  hours 
of  liberty.  I  tell  you  my  business  is  most  important;  the 
happiness  of  my  life  depends  upon  it." 

The  king  shrugged  his  shoulders  contemptuously.  "  The 
happiness  of  your  life !  How  can  this  poor,  short-sighted, 
vain  race  of  mortals  decide  any  question  relating  to  '  the 
happiness  of  life '  ?  You  seek  it  to-day,  perhaps,  in  riches ; 
to-morrow  in  the  arms  of  your  beloved;  and  the  next  day 
you  turn  away  from  and  despise  both  the  one  and  the  other. 
I  cannot  fulfil  your  wish;  I  have  important  work  for  you, 
and  will  not  grant  you  one  moment's  absence." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     105 

"  Sire,  I  must — " 

"  Not  another  word !  you  remain  here ;  I  command  you 
not  to  leave  this  room !  " 

"  I  will  not  obey  this  command,"  said  Fredersdorf,  com- 
pletely beside  himself  with  rage  and  despair.  "  Will  your 
majesty  dismiss  me  from  your  service,  withdraw  your  favor, 
and  banish  me  forever  from  your  presence?  I  must  and 
will  have  some  hours  of  liberty  this  evening." 

The  king's  eyes  flashed  lightning,  and  his  features  as- 
sumed so  threatening  an  expression,  that  Fredersdorf, 
though  completely  blinded  by  passion,  trembled.  Without 
a  word  in  reply,  the  king  stepped  hastily  to  the  door  which 
led  into  the  corridor.  Two  soldiers  stood  before  the 
door. 

"  You  will  see  that  no  one  leaves  this  room,"  said  Fred- 
erick— "  you  will  fire  upon  any  one  who  opens  the  door." 
He  turned  and  fixed  his  eyes  steadily  upon  the  pale  face  of 
the  secretary.  "  I  said  to  you  that  you  were  the  prisoner  of 
your  king  to-day.  You  would  not  understand  my  jest.  I 
will  force  you  to  see  that  I  am  in  earnest.  The  guards 
stand  before  this  door ;  the  other  door  leads  to  my  apartment, 
and  I  will  close  it.  You  shall  not  work  with  me  to-day; 
you  are  not  worthy  of  it.  You  are  a  bold  rebel,  deserving 
punishment,  and  '  having  eyes  see  not.' " 

Fredersdorf  had  not  the  courage  to  reply.  The  king 
stepped  hastily  through  the  room  and  opened  the  tapestry 
door;  as  he  stood  upon  the  threshold,  he  turned  once  again. 
"  Fredersdorf,  the  time  will  come  when  you  will  thank  me 
for  having  been  a  stern  king."  He  closed  the  door,  placed 
the  key  in  his  pocket,  and  returned  to  his  room,  where  Jor- 
dan awaited  him. 

"  And  now,  friend,  the  police  may  act  promptly  and  rig- 
orously; Fredersdorf  will  not  be  there,  and  I  shall  not  find 
it  necessary  to  punish  him  further.  Alas!  how  difficult 
it  is  to  turn  a  fool  from  his  folly !  Fredersdorf  would  learn 
to  make  gold  through  the  sacrifice  of  a  black  ram;  in  order 
to  do  this,  he  joins  himself  to  my  adversaries,  to  the  hypo- 
crites and  pietists;  he  goes  to  the  so-called  prayer-meetings 
of  the  godless,  who  call  themselves,  forsooth,  the  children  of 
God!    Ah!  Jordan,  how  selfish,  how  pitiful  is  this  small 


106  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

race  of  man!  how  little  do  they  merit!  I  took  Fredersdorf 
from  obscurity  and  poverty.  I  not  only  took  him  into  my 
service,  I  made  him  my  confidant  and  my  friend — I  loved 
him  sincerely.  And  what  is  my  reward  i  He  is  ungrateful, 
and  he  hates  me  with  a  perfect  hatred;  he  is  now  sitting  in 
his  room  and  cursing  his  king,  who  has  done  nothing  more 
than  protect  him  from  the  withering  ridicule  which  his 
childish  and  mad  pursuit  was  about  to  bring  upon  him. 
Jordan,  Jordan!  kings  are  always  repaid  with  ingrati- 
tude." 

"  Yes,  sire ;  and  God,  our  heavenly  Father,  meets  with 
the  same  reward,"  said  Jordan,  with  a  painful  smile.  "  God 
and  the  king  are  the  two  powers  most  misunderstood.  In 
their  bright  radiance  they  stand  too  high  above  the  sons 
of  men:  they  demand  of  the  king  that  he  shall  be  all-wise, 
almighty,  even  as  God  is;  they  require  of  God  that  He 
shall  judge  and  act  as  weak,  short-sighted  men  do,  not 
'  knowing  the  end  from  the  beginning.' " 

The  king  did  not  reply;  with  his  arms  folded,  he  w^alked 
thoughtfully  through  the  room. 

"Poor  Fredersdorf,"  said  he,  softly,  "I  have  slain  his 
hobby-horse,  and  that  is  always  an  unpardonable  offence  to 
any  man.  I  might,  perhaps,  have  closed  my  eyes  to  the  mad 
follies  of  these  so-called  pietists,  if  they  had  not  drawn  my 
poor  secretary  into  the  toils.  For  his  sake  I  will  give  them 
a  lesson.  I  will  force  him  to  see  that  they  are  hypocrites  and 
charlatans.  Happen  what  will,  I  have  saved  Fredersdorf 
from  ridicule;  if  he  curses  me  for  this,  I  can  bear  it  cheer- 
fully." 

The  king  was  right;  Fredersdorf  was  insane  with  pas- 
sion. He  cursed  the  king,  not  only  in  his  heart,  but  with  his 
trembling  lips;  he  called  him  a  tyrant,  a  heartless  egotist. 
He  hated  him,  even  as  an  ignorant,  unreasoning  child  hates 
the  kind  hand  which  corrects  and  restrains. 

"  They  will  discover  this  mystery ;  they  will  learn  how 
to  make  gold,  and  I  shall  not  be  there,"  murmured  Freders- 
dorf, gnashing  his  teeth ;  "  who  knows  ?  perhaps  they  will 
not  divulge  to  me  this  costly  receipt!  They  will  lie  to  me 
and  deceive  me.  Ah!  the  moon  is  rising;  she  casts  her 
pure,  silver  rays  into   this  hated  room,  now  become   my 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    107 

prison.  Xow,  even  now,  they  are  assembling;  now  the  holy 
incantation  begins,  and  I — I  am  not  there !  "  He  tore  his 
hair,  and  beat  his  breast,  and  cried  aloud. 

Fredersdorf  was  right.  As  the  moon  rose,  the  conspira- 
tors, who  had  been  notified  by  Von  Kleist,  the  husband  of 
the  beautiful  Louise  von  Schwerin,  began  to  assemble.  The 
great  saloon  in  which  the  gay  and  laughter-loving  Louise 
had  given  her  superb  balls  and  soirees — in  which  her  dancing 
feet  had  trampled  upon  her  fortune  and  her  happiness — 
was  now  changed  into  a  solemn  temple  of  worship,  where 
the  pious  believers  assembled  to  pray  to  God  and  to  adjure 
the  devil.  The  king  had  forbidden  that  the  churches  should 
be  opened  except  on  Sunday  and  the  regular  fete  days. 
Some  over-pious  and  fanatical  preachers  had  dared  to  dis- 
obey this  order.  The  assemblies  had  been  broken  up  by 
force  of  arms,  the  people  driven  to  their  homes,  and  the 
churches  closed.  Both  priests  and  people  were  threatened 
with  severe  punishment  if  they  should  dare  to  open  the 
churches  again  during  the  week.* 

The  pietists,  forgetting  the  Bible  rule,  to  "give  unto 
Caesar  that  which  is  Caesar's,"  refused  obedience  to  the 
spirit  of  the  comiyand,  and  assembled  together  in  the  dif- 
ferent houses  of  the  faithful.  Their  worship  consisted 
principally  in  stern  resolves  to  remain  obedient  to  the  only 
true  doctrine.  To  the  proud  fanatic  this  is,  of  course,  the 
faith  which  he  professes,  and  there  is  salvation  in  no  other. 
With  zealous  speech  they  railed  at  the  king  as  a  heretic  or 
imbeliever,  and  strengthened  themselves  in  their  disobedi- 
ence to  his  commands  by  declaring  it  was  well-pleasing  iu 
the  sight  of  God. 

The  pietists,  who  had  in  vain  endeavored  to  retain  the 
power  and  influence  which  they  had  enjoyed  under  Fred' 
erick  William,  whom  they  now  declared  to  have  been  the 
holiest  and  wisest  .of  kings,  had  become  the  bitterest  enemies 
of  Frederick  the  Great.  The  king  called  their  piety  hypoc- 
risy, laughed  at  their  rage,  replied  to  their  curses  by  witty 
words  and  biting  sarcasm;  and  on  one  occasion,  after  lis- 
tening  to  an  impertinent  request,  he  replied  laconically: 

*  PreuBs's  "  Geschichte  Friedriche  des  Grossen." 


108  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

"  The  cursed  priest  don't  know  himself  what  he  wants.  Let 
him  go  to  the  devil !  "  * 

This  so-called  prayer-meeting  was  to  take  place  to-day  in 
the  ball-room  of  the  beautiful  Louise,  after  the  regular 
hour  of  worship.  Only  the  elect  and  consecrated  would  rC' 
main  behind  to  take  part  in  the  deeper  mysteries,  and  be 
witness  to  the  incantation  by  which  the  astrologist  Pfannen- 
schmidt  would  constrain  his  majesty  the  devil  to  appear. 
No  woman  was  allowed  to  be  present  at  this  holy  ordinance, 
and  each  one  of  the  consecrated  had  sworn  a  solemn  oath 
not  to  betray  an  act  of  the  assembly. 

Von  Kleist  had  taken  the  oath,  and  kept  it  faithfully. 
But  there  is  a  wise  Persian  proverb  which  says :  "  If  you 
would  change  an  obedient  and  submissive  wife  into  a  proud 
rebel,  you  have  only  to  forbid  something!  If  you  wish  to 
keep  a  secret  from  the  wife  of  your  bosom,  slay  yourself,  or 
tear  out  your  tongue ;  if  you  live,  she  will  discover  your 
secret,  even  though  hidden  in  the  bottom  of  your  heart." 
Louise  von  Kleist  had  proved  the  truth  of  this  proverb. 
She  had  discovered  the  secret  which  her  husband  wished  to 
conceal  from  her.  She  had  soon  recovered  from  the  fleeting 
love  entertained  at  first  for  the  husband  chosen  for  her  by  the 
king.  She  had  returned  to  the  levity  of  her  earlier  days, 
and  only  waited  for  an  opportunity  to  revenge  herself  upon 
her  husband.  Louise  hated  him  because  he  had  never  been 
rich  enough  to  gratify  her  extravagant  taste  and  caprices. 
He  had  even  restrained  her  in  the  use  of  her  own  means: 
they  were  always  in  want  of  money,  and  constantly  railing 
bitterly  at  each  other. 

For  all  this  misery  Louise  wished  to  revenge  herself  upon 
her  husband,  as  beautiful  and  coquettish  women  always  wish 
to  revenge  themselves.  She  was  more  than  ready  to  be- 
lieve the  words  of  that  poet  who  says  that  "  a  woman's  heart 
is  always  girlish  and  youthful  enough  for  a  new  love."  She 
wished  to  take  special  vengeance  upon  her  husband  for  dar- 
ing to  keep  a  secret  from  her.  So  soon  as  she  discovered 
the  object  of  these  secret  meetings,  she  informed  the  king, 
and  implored  him  to  come  to  her  assistance  and  rescue  her 
husband  from  those  crooked  paths  which  had  cost  her  her 
*  Busching'a  "  Character  of  FreUerick  the  Great." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    lo9 

wedded  happiness  and  her  fortune.  Frederick  agreed  at  once 
to  her  proposition,  not  so  much  for  her  sake  as  because  he 
rejoiced  in  the  opportunity  to  free  Fredersdorf  from  the 
mystic  suppositions  which  had  clouded  his  intellect,  and  con- 
vince him  of  the  cunning  and  hypocrisy  of  the  alchemist 
Pfannenschmidt. 

Every  necessary  preparation  had  been  made  by  order  of 
the  king.  The  pious  assembly  had  scarcely  met,  when 
Louise  called  the  four  policemen  who  were  waiting  in  a 
neighboring  house,  and  placed  them  in  a  small  closet  ad- 
joining the  ball-room,  where  every  thing  which  took  place 
could  be  both  seen  and  heard. 

The  conspirators  had  no  suspicion.  The  meeting  was 
larger  than  ever  before.  There  were  people  of  all  classes, 
from  the  day  laborer  to  the  comfortable  burgher,  from  the 
honorable  officer  under  government  to  the  highest  noble. 
They  prayed  earnestly  and  fervently,  and  sang  hymns 
to  the  honor  and  glory  of  God.  Then  one  of  the  popular 
priests  stepped  into  the  pulpit  and  thundered  forth  one  of 
those  arrogant,  narrow-minded,  and  violent  discourses  which 
the  believers  of  those  days  indulged  in.  He  declared  all 
those  lost,  condemned  to  eternal  torture,  who  did  not  be- 
lieve as  he  believed;  and  all  those  elected  and  sanctified 
who  adhered  to  his  holy  faith,  and  who,  despising  the  com- 
mand of  the  heretical  king,  met  together  for  these  forbidden 
services. 

All  this,  however,  was  but  the  preparation  for  the  great 
solemnity  prepared  for  the  initiated,  who  were  now  waiting 
with  loudly-beating  hearts  and  breathless  expectation  for  the 
grand  result. 

And  now  another  orator,  the  astrologer,  the  enlightened 
prophet  of  God,  ascended  the  pulpit.  With  what  pious 
words  he  warned  his  hearers  to  repentance !  how  eloquently 
he  exhorted  them  to  contemn  the  hollow  and  vain  world, 
which  God  had  only  made  lovely  and  attractive  in  order  to 
tempt  men  to  sin  and  try  their  powers  of  resistance !  "  Re- 
sist! resist!"  he  howled  through  his  nose,  "and  persuade 
men  to  turn  to  you,  and  be  saved  even  as  we  are  saved — to 
become  angels  of  God,  even  as  we  are  God's  holy  angels."  In 
order,  however,  to  reach  their  exalted  goal,  they  must  make 


110  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SO0C1;  OU, 

greater  efforts,  use  larger  means.  Power  and  wealth  were 
necessary  to  make  the  world  happy  and  convert  it  to  the 
true  faith.  The  world  must  become  wholly  theirs;  they 
must  buy  from  the  devil  the  gold  which  he  has  hid  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth,  and  with  it  allure  men,  and  save  their 
gouls  from  perdition.  "  We,  by  the  grace  of  God,  have  been 
empowered  to  subdue  the  devil,  and  to  force  him  to  give 
up  his  secret.  To  those  who,  like  ourselves,  are  enlightened 
by  the  holy  spirit  of  knowledge,  the  mysteries  of  the  lower 
world  must  be  made  clear.  It  is  also  a  noble  and  great 
work  which  we  have  before  us ;  we  must  make  gold,  and  with 
it  we  must  purchase  and  convert  the  whole  race  to  holi- 
ness ! " 

When  this  pious  rhapsody  was  concluded,  he  called  the 
assembly  to  earnest  prayer.  They  fell  upon  their  knees, 
and  dared  to  pray  to  God  that  He  would  give  them  strength 
to  adjure  the  devil. 

It  was  not,  however,  exactly  the  plan  of  the  astrologer  to 
crown  the  efforts  of  the  elect  with  success,  and  bring  the 
devil  virtually  before  them.  As  long  as  his  majesty  did  not 
appear,  the  pious  must  believe  and  hope  in  their  priest; 
must  give  him  their  love,  their  confidence,  and  their  gold; 
must  look  upon  him  as  their  benefactor,  who  was  to  crown 
their  future  with  glory  and  riches,  and  bring  the  world  to 
their  feet.  In  short,  he  knew  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
introduce  a  devil  who  could  disclose  the  great  secret.  The 
prayers  and  offerings  of  the  past  had  failed,  and  their  future 
sacrifices  must  also  be  in  vain. 

And  now,  in  the  midst  of  solemn  hymns,  the  ram  was  led 
to  the  altar — this  rare  offering  which  had  cost  so  much 
weary  wandering  and  so  much  precious  gold.  With  pom- 
pous ceremony,  and  covered  with  a  white  veil,  the  black  ram 
was  led  to  the  sacrifice.  The  holy  priest  Pfannenschmidt, 
clothed  in  gold-embroidered  robes,  stood  with  a  silver  knife 
in  his  hand,  and  a  silver  bowl  to  receive  the  blood  of  the  vic- 
tim. As  he  raised  the  knife,  the  faithful  threw  themselves 
upon  their  knees  and  prayed  aloud,  prayed  to  God  to  be  with 
them  and  bless  their  efforts. 

The  astrologer,  glowing  with  piety  and  enthusiasm,  was 
about  to  sink  the  knife  into  the  throat  of  the  poor  trembling 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     1|1 

beast,  when  suddenly  something  unheard  of,  incredible,  took 
place.  A  figure  fearful  to  look  upon  sprang  fiercely  from 
behind  the  altar,  and  seized  the  arm  of  the  priest. 

"  Spare  the  offering,  let  the  sacrifice  go  free ! "  he  said, 
with  a  thundering  voice.  "  You  have  called  me,  and  I  am 
here !     I  am  the  devil !  " 

"  The  devil !  it  is  truly  the  devil ! "  and,  with  timid 
glances,  they  looked  up  at  the  giant  figure,  clothed  in  crim- 
son, his  face  completely  shaded  by  a  wide-brimmed  hat,  from 
which  three  crimson  feathers  waved  majestically:  these, 
with  his  terrible  club-foot,  all  gave  unmistakable  evidence 
of  the  presence  of  Satan.  They  believed  truly  in  him,  these 
pious  children  of  God;  they  remained  upoji  their  knees  and 
stammered  their  prayers,  scarcely  knowing  themselves  if 
they  were  addressed  to  God  or  to  the  devil. 

There  in  the  little  cabinet  stood  Louise  von  Kleist,  trem- 
bling with  mirth,  and  with  great  effort  suppressing  an  out- 
burst of  laughter.  She  looked  with  wicked  and  mocking 
eyes  upon  her  husband,  who  lay  shivering  and  deadly  pale  at 
the  feet  of  the  devil  and  the  black  ram.  He  fixed  his  plead- 
ing glances  upon  the  fierj-  monster  who  was  to  him  indeed 
the  devil.  Louise,  however,  fully  understood  this  scene; 
she  it  was  who  had  induced  young  Fredersdorf  to  assume 
this  part,  and  had  assisted  him  in  his  disguise. 

"  This  moment  repays  me,  avenges  me  for  all  I  have 
suffered  by  the  side  of  this  silly  and  extravagant  fool,"  said 
Louise  to  herself.  "  Oh,  I  will  mock  him,  I  will  martyr  him 
with  this  devil's  work.  The  whole  world  shall  know  of  it, 
and,  from  this  time  forth,  I  shall  be  justified  and  pitied. 
No  one  will  be  surprised  that  I  am  not  constant  to  my  hus- 
band, that  I  cannot  love  him." 

Whilst  the  pious-elect  still  rested  upon  their  knees  in 
trembling  adoration,  the  priest  Pfannenschmidt  had  recov- 
ered from  his  surprise  and  alarm.  He,  who  did  not  believe 
in  the  devil,  although  he  daily  addressed  him,  knew  that 
the  monster  before  him  was  an  unseemly  jest  or  a  malicious 
interruption.  He  must,  therefore,  tear  off  his  mask  and  ex- 
pose him  to  the  faithful. 

With  passionate  energy  he  stretched  out  both  his  arms 
toward  him.    "  Away  with  you,  you  son  of  Baal !    Fly,  fly, 


112  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

before  I  unmask  you !  You  are  not  what  you  appear.  You 
are  no  true  devil !  " 

"  How !  you  deny  me,  your  lord  and  master  ? "  cried  the 
intruder,  raising  his  hand  covered  with  a  crimson  glove, 
against  the  priest.  '"  You  have  long  called  for  me.  You 
have  robbed  these,  my  children,  of  their  gold  in  order  to 
propitiate  me,  and  now  that  I  am  come,  you  will  not  confess 
me  before  men!  Perhaps  you  fear  that  these  pious  be- 
lievers will  no  longer  lavish  their  attentions  and  their  gold 
upon  you,  and  suffer  you  to  lead  them  by  the  nose.  Go,  go ! 
you  are  not  my  high  priest.  I  listened  to  your  entreaties, 
and  I  qame,  but  only  to  prove  to  my  children  that  you  are 
a  deceiver,  and  tp  free  them  from  your  yoke.  Away,  you 
blasphemer  of  God  and  of  the  devil!  Neither  God  nor  the 
devil  accepts  your  service ;  away  with  you !  "  Saying  this, 
he  seized  the  astrologer  with  a  powerful  arm,  and  dragged 
him  toward  the  altar. 

But  Pfannenschmidt  was  not  the  man  to  submit  to  such 
indignities.  With  a  wild  cry  of  rage,  he  rushed  upon  his 
adversary;  and  now  began  a  scene  which  neither  words  nor 
colors  could  portray.  The  pious  worshippers  raised  them- 
selves from  their  knees  and  stared  for  a  moment  at  this  curi- 
ous spectacle;  and  then,  according  as  they  believed  in  the 
devil  or  the  priest,  sprang  forward  to  take  part  in  the  con- 
test. 

In  the  midst  of  this  wild  tumult  the  policemen  appeared, 
to  arrest  those  who  were  present,  in  the  name  of  the  king; 
to  break  up  the  assembly,  and  put  an  end  to  the  noise  and 
tumult. 

Louise,  meanwhile,  laughing  boisterously,  observed  this 
whole  scene  from  the  cabinet;  she  saw  the  police  seize  the 
raging  astrologer,  who  uttered  curses,  loud  and  deep,  against 
the  unbelieving  king,  who  dared  to  treat  the  pious  and  pray- 
erful as  culprits,  and  to  arrest  the  servant  and  priest  of  the 
Lord.  Louise  saw  these  counts  and  barons,  these  oificers 
and  secretaries,  who  had  been  the  brave  adherents  of  the 
astrologer,  slipping  away  with  shame  and  confusion  of  face. 
She  saw  her  own  husband  mocked  and  ridiculed  by  the 
police,  who  handed  him  an  order  from  the  king,  written  by 
the  royal  hand,  commanding  him  to  consider  himself  as 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS.     113 

under  arrest  in  his  own  house.     As  Louise  heard  this  order 
read,  her  laughter  was  hushed  and  her  brow  was  clouded. 

"  Truly,"  said  she,  "  that  is  a  degree  of  consideration 
which  looks  like  malice  in  the  king.  To  make  my  husband  a 
prisoner  in  his  own  house  is  to  punish  me  fearfully,  by  con- 
demning me  steadily  to  his  hateful  society.  My  God,  how 
cruel,  how  wicked  is  the  king!  My  husband  is  a  prisoner 
here !  that  is  to  banish  my  beautiful,  my  beloved  Salimberri 
from  my  presence.  Oh,  when  shall  we  meet  again,  my  love, 
my  adorer  ? " 


BOOK  n. 

CHAPTEE  I. 

THE  TWO  SISTERS. 

"  I  HAVE  triumphed !  I  have  reached  the  goal ! "  said 
Princess  Ulrica,  with  a  proud  smile,  as  she  laid  her  hymn- 
book  aside,  and  removed  from  her  head  her  long  white  veil. 
"  This  important  step  is  taken ;  yet  one  more  grand  ceremony, 
and  I  will  be  the  Princess  Koyal  of  Sweden — after  that,  a 
queen!  They  have  not  succeeded  in  setting  me  aside. 
Amelia  will  not  be  married  before  me,  thus  bringing  upon 
me  the  contempt  and  ridicule  of  the  mocking  world.  All 
my  plans  have  succeeded.  In  place  of  shrouding  my  head 
in  the  funereal  veil  of  an  abbess,  to  which  my  brother  had 
condemned  me,  I  shall  soon  wear  the  festive  myrtle-wreath, 
and  ere  long  a  crown  will  adorn  my  brow." 

Ulrica  threw  herself  upon  the  divan,  in  order  to  indulge 
quietly  in  these  proud  and  happy  dreams  of  the  future,  when 
the  door  was  hastily  thrown  open,  and  the  Princess  Amelia, 
with  a  pale  and  angry  face,  entered  the  room.  She  cast  one 
of  those  glances  of  flame,  with  which  she,  in  common  with  the 
king,  was  wont  to  crush  her  adversaries,  upon  the  splendid 
toilet  of  her  sister,  and  a  wild  and  scornful  laugh  burst 
from  her  lips. 

"  I  have  not,  then,  been  deceived,"  she  cried ;  "  it  is  not  a 
fairy  tale  to  which  I  have  listened.  You  come  from  the 
chapel  ? " 

"  I  come  from  the  chapel  ?  yes,"  said  Ulrica,  meeting  the 
angry  glance  of  her  sister  with  a  firm  and  steady  look.  Re- 
solved to  breast  the  coming  storm  with  proud  composure,  she 
folded  her  arms  across  her  bosom,  as  if  she  would  protect 
114 


FREDERICK  THE    GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    115 

herself  from  Amelia's   flashing  eyes.     "  I  come   from  the 
chapel — what  further  ?  " 

"  What  further  ?  "  cried  Amelia,  stamping  fiercely  on  the 
floor.  "Ah,  you  will  play  the  harmless  and  the  innocent! 
What  took  you  to  the  chapel  ?  " 

Ulrica  looked  up  steadily  and  smilingly;  then  said,  in  a 
quiet  and  indifferent  tone :  "  I  have  taken  the  sacrament  of 
the  Lord's  Supper,  according  to  the  Lutheran  form  of 
worship." 

Amelia  shuddered  as  if  she  felt  the  sting  of  a  poisonous 
serpent.  "  That  signifies  that  you  are  an  apostate ;  that 
signifies  that  you  have  shamefully  outwitted  and  betrayed 
me;  that  means — " 

"  That  signifies,"  said  Ulrica,  interrupting  her,  "  that  I 
am  a  less  pious  Christian  than  you  are;  that  you,  my  noble 
yomig  sister,  are  a  more  innocent  and  unselfish  maiden  than 
the  Princess  Ulrica." 

"  Words,  words !  base,  hypocritical  words !  "  cried  Amelia. 
"  You  first  inspired  me  with  the  thought  which  led  to  my 
childish  and  contradictory  behavior,  and  which  for  some 
days  made  me  the  jest  of  the  court.  You  are  a  false  friend, 
a  faithless  sister!  I  stood  in  your  path,  and  you  put  me 
aside.  I  understand  now  your  perfidious  counsels,  your 
smooth,  deceitful  encouragement  to  my  opposition  against 
the  proposition  of  the  Swedish  ambassador.  I,  forsooth, 
must  be  childish,  coarse,  and  riide,  in  order  that  your  gentle 
and  girlish  grace,  your  amiable  courtesy,  might  shine  with 
added  lustre.  I  was  your  foil,  which  made  the  jewel  of  your 
beauty  resplendent.  Oh !  it  is  shameful  to  be  so  misused,  so 
outwitted  by  my  sister !  " 

With  streaming  eyes,  Amelia  sank-upon  a  chair,  and  hid 
her  face  with  her  trembling  little  hands. 

"  Foolish  child !  "  said  Ulrica,  "  you  accuse  me  fiercely, 
but  you  know  that  you  came  to  me  and  implored  me  to  find 
a  means  whereby  you  would  be  relieved  from  this  hateful 
marriage  with  the  Prince  Royal  of  Sweden." 

"  You  should  have  reasoned  with  me,  you  should  have  en- 
couraged me  to  give  up  my  foolish  opposition.     You  should 
have  reminded  me  that  I  was  a  princess,  and  therefore  con- 
demned to  have  no  heart." 
8 


116  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  You  said  nothing  to  me  of  your  heart ;  you  spoke  only 
of  your  religion.  Had  you  told  me  that  your  heart  rebelled 
against  this  marriage  with  the  Crown  Prince  of  Sweden, 
then,  upon  my  knees,  with  all  the  strength  of  a  sister's  love, 
I  would  have  implored  you  to  accept  his  hand,  to  shroud 
your  heart  in  your  robe  of  purple,  and  take  refuge  on  your 
throne  from  the  danger  which  threatens  a  young  princess  if 
she  allows  her  heart  to  speak." 

Amelia  let  her  hands  fall  from  her  face,  and  looked  up  at 
her  sister,  whose  great  earnest  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  with 
an  expression  of  triumph  and  derision. 

"  I  did  not  say  that  my  heart  had  spoken,"  she  cried,  sob- 
bing and  trembling ;  "  I  only  said  that  we  poor  princesses 
were  not  allowed  to  have  hearts." 

"  N"o  heart  for  one ;  but  a  great  large  heart,  great  enough 
for  all ! "  cried  Ulrica.  "  You  accuse  me,  Amelia,  but  you 
forget  that  I  did  not  intrude  upon  your  confidence.  You 
came  to  me  voluntarily,  and  disclosed  your  abhorrence  of 
this  marriage ;  then  only  did  I  counsel  you,  as  I  would  wish 
to  be  advised  under  the  same  circumstances.  In  a  word,  I 
counselled  you  to  obey  your  conscience,  your  own  convictions 
of  duty." 

"  Yout  advice  was  wonderfully  in  unison  with  your 
own  plans;  your  deceitful  words  were  dictated  by  selfish- 
ness," cried  Amelia,  bitterly. 

"  I  would  not  have  adopted  the  course  which  I  advised 
you  to  pursue,  because  my  character  and  my  feeling  are 
wholly  different  from  yours.  My  conscience  is  less  tender, 
less  trembling  than  yours.  To  become  a  Lutheran  does  not 
appear  to  me  a  crime,  not  even  a  fault,  more  particularly  as 
this  change  is  not  the  result  of  fickleness  or  inconstancy,  but 
for  an  important  political  object." 

"  And  your  object  was  to  become  Queen  of  Swe- 
den?" 

"  Why  should  I  deny  it  ?  I  accept  this  crown  which  you 
cast  from  you  with  contempt.  I  am  ambitious.  You  were 
too  proud  to  offer  up  the  smallest  part  of  your  religious 
faith  in  order  to  mount  the  throne  of  Sweden.  I  do  not 
fear  to  be  banished  from  heaven,  because,  in  order  to  be- 
come a  queen,  I  changed  the  outward  form  of  my  religion; 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     UY 

my  inward  faith  is  unchanged :  if  you  repent  your  conduct — ■ 
if  you  have  modified  your  views — " 

"  No,  no !  "  said  Amelia,  hastily,  "  I  do  not  repent.  My 
grief  and  my  despair  are  not  because  of  this  pitiful  crown, 
but  because  of  my  faithless  and  deceitful  sister  who  gave 
me  evil  counsel  to  promote  her  own  interests,  and  while  she 
seemed  to  love,  betrayed  me.  Go,  go!  place  a  crown  upon 
your  proud  head;  you  take  up  that  which  I  despise  and 
trample  upon.  I  do  not  repent.  I  have  no  regrets.  But, 
hark!  in  becoming  a  queen,  you  cease  to  be  my  sister. 
Never  will  I  forget  that  through  falsehood  and  treachery 
you  won  this  crown.  Go!  be  Queen  of  Sweden.  Let  the 
whole  world  bow  the  knee  before  you.  I  despise  you.  You 
have  shrouded  your  pitiful  heart  in  your  royal  robes.  Fare- 
well!" 

She  sprang  to  the  door  with  flashing  eyes  and  throbbing 
breast,  but  Ulrica  followed  and  laid  her  hand  upon  her 
shoulder. 

"  Let  us  not  part  in  anger,  my  sister,"  said  she,  softly — 
"  let  us—" 

Amelia  would  not  listen;  with  an  angry  movement  she 
dashed  the  hand  from  her  shoulder  and  fled  from  the 
room.  Alone  in  her  boudoir,  she  paced  the  room  in  stormy 
rage,  wild  passion  throbbed  in  every  pulse.  With  the  in- 
sane fury  of  the  Hohenzollerns,  she  almost  cursed  her 
sister,  who  had  so  bitterly  deceived,  so  shamefully  betrayed 
her. 

In  outward  appearance,  as  well  as  in  character,  the  Prin- 
cess Amelia  greatly  resembled  her  royal  brother:  like  him, 
she  was  by  nature  trusting  and  confiding ;  but,  once  deceived, 
despair  and  doubt  took  possession  of  her.  A  deadly  mildew 
destroyed  the  love  which  she  had  cherished,  not  only  for 
her  betrayer,  but  her  confidence  and  trust  in  all  around  her. 
Great  and  magnanimous  herself,  she  now  felt  that  the  rich 
fountain  of  her  love  and  her  innocent,  girlish  credulity  were 
choked  within  her  heart.  With  trembling  lips,  she  said 
aloud  and  firmly :  "  I  will  never  more  have  a  friend.  I  do 
not  believe  in  friendship.  Women  are  all  false,  all  cunning, 
all  selfish.  My  heart  is  closed  to  them,  and  their  deceitful 
smiles  and  plausible  words  can  never  more  betray  me.     Oh, 


118  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

my  God,  my  God!  must  I  then  be  always  solitary,  always 
alone?  must  I — " 

Suddenly  she  paused,  and  a  rich  crimson  blush  overspread 
her  face.  What  was  it  which  interrupted  her  sorrowful 
words  ?  Why  did  she  fix  her  eyes  upon  the  door  so  eagerly  ? 
Why  did  she  listen  so  earnestly  to  that  voice  calling  her 
name  from  the  corridor. 

"  Polhiitz,  it  is  Pollnitz !  "  she  whispered  to  herself,  and 
she  trembled  fearfully. 

"  I  must  speak  with  the  Princess  Amelia,"  cried  the  mas- 
ter of  ceremonies. 

"  But  that  is  impossible,"  replied  another  voice ;  "  her 
royal  highness  has  closed  the  door,  and  will  receive  no 
one." 

"  Her  royal  highness  will  open  the  door  and  allow  me  to 
enter  as  soon  as  you  announce  me.  I  come  upon  a  most 
important  mission.  The  life-happiness  of  more  than  one 
woman  depends  upon  my  errand." 

"  My  God !  "  said  Amelia,  turning  deadly  pale,  "  Pollnitz 
may  betray  me  if  I  refuse  to  open  the  door."  So  saying, 
she  sprang  forward  and  drew  back  the  bolt. 

"  Look,  now.  Mademoiselle  von  Marwitz,"  cried  Pollnitz, 
as  he  bowed  profoundly,  "  was  I  not  right  ?  Our  dear  prin- 
cess was  graciously  pleased  to  open  the  door  so  soon  as  she 
heard  my  voice.  Remark  that,  mademoiselle,  and  look  upon 
me  in  future  as  a  most  important  person,  who  is  not  only  ac- 
corded les  grandes  but  les  petites  entries.'''' 

The  Princess  Amelia  was  but  little  inclined  to  enter  into 
the  jests  of  the  master  of  ceremonies. 

"  I  heard,"  said  she,  in  a  harsh  tone,  "  that  you  demanded 
importunately  to  see  me,  and  you  went  so  far  as  to  declare 
that  the  happiness  of  many  men  depended  upon  this  inter- 
view." 

"  Pardon  me,  your  highness,  I  only  said  that  the  happi- 
ness of  more  than  one  i^owian  depended  upon  it;  and  you 
will  graciously  admit  that  I  have  spoken  the  truth  when  you 
learn  the  occasion  which  brings  me  here."- 

"  Well,  let  us  heflr,"  said  Amelia,  "  and  woe  to  you  if  it  is 
not  a  grave  and  important  affair !  " 

"  Grave  indeed ;  it  concerns  the  toilets  for  a  ball,  and  you 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    119 

miist  confess  that  the  happiness  of  more  than  one  woman 
hangs  upon  this  question." 

"  In  truth,  you  are  right,  and  if  you  came  as  milliner  or 
dressmaker,  Mademoiselle  von  Marwitz  did  wrong  not  to 
announce  you  immediately." 

"  Now,  ladies,  there  is  nothing  less  important  on  hand 
than  a  masked  ball.  The  king  has  commanded  that,  besides 
the  masked  ball  which  is  to  take  place  in  the  oi^era-house, 
and  to  which  the  public  are  invited,  another  shall  be  ar- 
ranged here  in  the  castle  on  the  day  before  the  betrothal  of 
the  Princess  Ulrica." 

"  And  when  is  that  ceremony  to  take  place  ? "  said 
Amelia. 

"  Has  not  your  royal  highness  been  informed  ?  Ah,  I 
forgot — the  king  has  kept  this  a  secret,  and  to  no  one  but  the 
queen-mother  has  it  been  officially  announced.  Yes,  yes,  the 
Princess  Ulrica  is  to  marry  this  little  Prince  of  Holstein, 
who  will,  however,  be  King  of  Sweden.  This  solemn  cere- 
mony takes  place  in  four  days;  so  we  have  but  three  days 
before  the  masquerade,  and  we  must  work  night  and  day 
to  prepare  the  necessary  costumes — his  majesty  wishes  it  to 
be  a  superb  f^te.  Quadrilles  are  arranged,  the  king  has  se- 
lected the  partners,  and  I  am  here  at  his  command,  to  say 
to  your  royal  highness  that  you  will  take  part  in  these 
quadrilles.  You  will  dance  a  quadrille,  in  the  costume  of 
Francis  the  First,  with  the  Margravine  of  Baireuth  and  the 
Duchess  of  Brunswick." 

"  And  who  is  to  be  my  partner  ?  "  said  Amelia,  anxioiisly. 

"  The  Margrave  von  Schwedt." 

"  Ah !  my  irresistible  cousin.  I  see  there  the  hand  of  my 
malicious  brother;  he  knows  how  dull  and  wearisome  I  con- 
sider the  poor  margrave." 

The  princess  turned  away  displeased,  and  walked  up  and 
down  the  room. 

"Did  you  not  say  that  I,  also,  would  take  part  in  the 
quadrille  ?  "  said  Mademoiselle  von  Marwitz. 

"  Certainly,  mademoiselle ;  you  will  dance  in  Eussian 
costume." 

"  And  who  will  be  my  partner  ?  " 

PoUnitz  laughed  heartily.     "  One  would  think  that  the 


120  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

most  important  question  was  not  as  to  the  ball  toilet,  but  as 
to  the  partner;  that  he,  in  short,  was  as  much  a  life-question 
as  the  color  and  cut  of  your  robe,  or  the  fashion  of  your 
coiffure.  So  you  demand  the  name  of  your  partner?  Ah, 
mademoiselle,  you  will  be  more  than  content.  The  partner 
whom  the  king  has  selected  for  you  is  one  of  our  youngest, 
handsomest,  most  amiable  and  talented  cavaliers;  a  youth 
whom  Alcibiades  would  not  have  been  indignant  at  being 
compared  with,  and  whom  Diana  would  have  preferred,  per- 
haps, to  the  dreaming  and  beautiful  Endymion,  had  she 
found  him  sleeping.  And  mark  you,  you  will  not  only  dance 
with  this  pearl  of  creation,  but  in  the  next  few  days  you  must 
see  and  speak  with  him  frequently.  It  is  necessary  that  you 
should  consult  together  over  the  choice  and  color  of  your 
costumes,  and  about  the  dances.  If  your  royal  highness  will 
allow  it,  he  must  come  daily  to  arrange  these  important 
points.  Alas!  why  am  I  not  a  young  maiden?  Why  can  I 
not  enjoy  the  felicity  of  loving  this  Adonis?  Why  can  I 
not  exchange  this  poor,  burnt-out  heart  for  one  that  glows 
and  palpitates  ? " 

"  You  are  a  fool,  and  know  nothing  about  a  maiden's 
heart !  In  your  ecstasy  for  this  Ganymede,  who  is  probably 
an  old  crippled  monster,  you  make  rare  confusion.  You 
force  the  young  girl  to  play  the  part  of  the  ardent  lover,  and 
give  to  your  monster  the  character  of  a  cool,  vain  fop." 

"  Monster  ?  My  God !  she  said  monster !  "  cried  PoUnitz, 
pathetically.  "  Fall  upon  your  knees,  mademoiselle,  and 
pray  fervently  to  your  good  fortune  to  forgive  you ;  you  have 
sinned  greatly  against  it,  I  assure  you.  You  will  confess 
this  when  I  have  told  you  the  name  of  your  partner." 

"  Name  him,  then,  at  last." 

"  Not  before  Princess  Amelia  is  gracious  enough  to 
promise  me  that  she  will  watch  over  and  shield  you;  that 
she  will  never  allow  you  a  single  tete-d-Ute  with  your  dan- 
gerous partner." 

"  Ah,  you  will  make  me  the  duenna  of  my  maid  of  honor," 
said  Amelia,  laughing.  "  I  shall  be  the  chaperon  of  my 
good  Marwitz,  and.  shield  her  from  the  weakness  of  her  own 
heart." 

"  If  your  royal  highness  declines  to  give  this  promise. 


FREDERICK   THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    121 

Mademoiselle  Marwitz  shall  have  another  partner.  I  can- 
not answer  to  my  conscience  if  she  is  left  alone,  unobserved 
and  unprotected,  with  the  most  beautiful  of  the  beautiful." 

"  Be  merciful,  princess,  and  say  yes.  For  you  see  well 
that  this  terrible  Pollnitz  will  make  me  a  martyr  to  curiosity. 
Consent,  gracious  princess,  and  then  I  may  perhaps  hear  the 
name  of  my  partner." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Amelia,  smiling,  "  I  consent  to  play 
Mentor  to  my  maid  of  honor." 

"  Your  royal  highness  promises  then,  solemnly,  to  be 
present  at  every  conference  between  Mademoiselle  von  Mar- 
witz and  her  irresistible  partner  ?  " 

"  I  promise ;  be  quick !  Marwitz  will  die  of  curiosity,  if 
you  do  not  tell  the  name  of  this  wonder." 

"  Well,  now,  that  I  have,  so  far  as  it  is  in  my  power, 
guarded  the  heart  of  this  young  girl  from  disaster,  and 
placed  it  under  the  protecting  eye  of  our  noble  princess,  I 
venture  to  name  my  paragon.  He  is  the  young  lieutenant — 
Baron  von  Trenck,  the  favorite  of  the  king  and  the  court." 

Very  different  was  the  impression  made  by  this  name 
upon  the  two  ladies.  The  eager  countenance  of  Madem- 
oiselle von  Marwitz  expressed  cool  displeasure;  while  the 
princess,  blushing  and  confused,  turned  aside  to  conceal  the 
happy  smile  which  played  upon  her  full,  rosy  lips. 

Pollnitz,  who  had  seen  all  this,  wished  to  give  the  prin- 
cess time  to  collect  herself.  He  turned  to  Mademoiselle 
Marwitz  and  said :  "  I  see,  to  my  amazement,  that  our  lovely 
maid  of  honor  is  not  so  enraptured  as  I  had  hoped.  Mad- 
emoiselle, mademoiselle !  you  are  a  wonderful  actress,  but 
you  cannot  deceive  me.  You  wish  to  seem  disappointed  and 
indifferent,  in  order  to  induce  our  gracious  princess  to  with- 
draw her  promise  to  me,  and  to  think  it  unnecessary  to  be 
present  at  your  interviews  with  Trenck.  This  acting  is  in 
vain.  The  princess  has  given  her  word,  and  she  will  most 
surely  keep  it." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Amelia,  smiling,  j*  I  have  no  alterna- 
tive. Queens  and  princesses,  kings  and  princes,  are  boimd 
by  their  promises,  even  as  common  men,  and  their  honor 
demands  that  they  fulfil  their  contracts.  I  will  keep  my 
word.    But  enough  of  jesting  for  the  present.     Let  us  speak 


122  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

now  of  the  solemn  realities  of  life,  namely,  of  our  toilets. 
Baron,  give  me  your  model  engraving,  and  make  known 
your  views.  Call  my  chambermaid,  mademoiselle,  and  my 
dressmakers;  we  will  hold  a  solenan  conference." 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  TEMPTER. 

As  Mademoiselle  von  Marwitz  left  the  room,  Pollnitz 
took  a  sealed  note  from  his  pocket  and  handed  it  hastily 
to  the  princess.  She  concealed  it  in  the  pocket  of  her  dress, 
and  continued  to  gaze  indifferently  upon  a  painting  of  Wat- 
teau,  which  hung  upon  the  wall. 

"Not  one  word!  Still!  Not  one  word!"  whispered 
PoUnitz.  "You  are  resolved  to  drive  my  young  friend  to 
despair.    You  will  not  grant  him  one  gracious  word  ? " 

The  princess  turned  away  her  blushing  face,  drew  a  note 
from  her  bosom,  and,  without  a  glance  or  word  in  reply,  she 
handed  it  to  the  master  of  ceremonies,  ashamed  and  con- 
fused, as  a  young  girl  always  is,  when  she  enters  upon  her 
first  love  romance,  or  commits  her  first  imprudence. 

Pollnitz  kissed  her  hand  with  a  lover's  rapture.  "  He 
will  be  the  most  blessed  of  mortals,"  said  he,  "  and  yet  this 
is  so  small  a  favor !  It  lies  in  the  power  of  your  royal  high- 
ness to  grant  him  heavenly  felicity.  You  can  fulfil  one  wish 
which  his  trembling  lips  have  never  dared  to  speak;  which 
only  God  and  the  eyes  of  one  faithful  friend  have  seen  writ' 
ten  in  his  heart." 

"  What  is  this  wish  ? "  said  the  princess,  in  so  low  and 
trembling  a  whisper,  that  Pollnitz  rather  guessed  than  heard 
her  words.  . 

"  I  believe  that  he  would  pay  with  his  life  for  the  happi- 
ness of  sitting  one  hour  at  your  feet  and  gazing  upon  you." 

"  Well,  you  have  prepared  for  him  this  opportunity ;  you 
have  so  adroitly  arranged  your  plans,  that  I  cannot  avoid 
meeting  him." 


.    FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     123 

"  Ah,  princess,  how  despondent  woifld  he  be,  if  he  could 
hear  these  cold  and  cruel  words!  I  must  comfort  him  by 
this  appearance  of  favor  if  I  cannot  obtain  for  him  a  real 
happiness.  Your  royal  highness  is  very  cold,  very  stern  to- 
ward my  poor  friend.  My  God !  he  asks  only  of  your  grace, 
that  which  the  humblest  of  your  brother's  subjects  dare  de- 
mand of  him — an  audience — that  is  all." 

Amelia  fixed  her  burning  eyes  upon  Pollnitz.  '''Apage, 
Satanas !"  she  whispered,  with  a  weary  smile. 

"You  do  me  too  much  honor,"  said  Pollnitz.  "Un- 
happily I  am  not  the  devil,  who  is,  without  doubt,  next  to 
God,  the  most  powerful  ruler  of  this  earth.  I  am  convinced 
that  three-fourths  of  our  race  belong  to  him.  I  am,  alas! 
but  a  poor,  weak  mortal,  and  my  words  have  not  the  power 
to  move  the  heart  of  your  highness  to  pity." 

"  My  God !  Pollnitz,  why  all  this  eloquence  and  interces- 
sion ?  "  cried  Amelia.  "  Do  I  not  allow  him  to  write  to  mo 
all  that  he  thinks  and  feels?  Am  I  not  traitress  enough  to 
read  all  his  letters,  and  pardon  him  for  his  love?  What 
more  can  he  dare  hope  for?  Is  it  not  enough  that  he  loves 
a  princess,  and  tells  her  so  ?     Not  enough — " 

.  She  ceased  suddenly;  her  eyes,  which  shrank  from  meet- 
ing the  bold,  reproachful,  and  ironical  glance  of  the  baron, 
had  wandered  restlessly  about  the  room  and  fell  now  upon 
the  picture  of  Watteau;  upon  the  loving,  happy  pair,  who 
were  tenderly  embracing  under  the  oaks  in  the  centre  of 
that  enchanting  landscape.  This  group,  upon  which  the  eye 
of  the  princess  accidentally  rested,  was  an  eloquent  and  de- 
cisive answer  to  her  question — an  answer  made  to  the  eyes, 
if  not  the  ears  of  Amelia — and  her  heart  trembled. 

Pollnitz  had  followed  her  glances,  and  understood  her 
blushes  and  her  confusion.  He  stepped  to  the  picture  and 
pointed  to  the  tender  lovers. 

"  Gracious  princess,  demand  of  these  blessed  ones,  if  a 
man  who  loves  passionately  has  nothing  more  to  implore  of 
his  mistress  than  the  permission  to  write  her  letters  ? " 

Amelia  trembled.  She  fixed  her  eyes  with  an  expression 
of  absolute  terror  upon  Pollnitz,  who  with  his  fox  smile  and 
immovable  composure  gazed  steadily  in  her  face.  He  had 
no  pity  for  her  girlish  confusion,  for  her  modest  and  maid- 


124  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

enly  alarm.  With  ^y,  mocking,  and  frivolous  jests,  he  re- 
solved to  overcome  her  fears.  lie  painted  in  glowing  colors 
the  anguish  and  despair  of  her  young  lover;  he  assured  her 
that  she  could  grant  him  -a  meeting  in  her  rooms  without 
danger  from  curious  eyes  or  ears.  Did  not  the  room  of  the 
princess  open  upon  this  little  dark  corridor,  in  which  >  no 
guard  was  ever  placed,  and  from  which  a  small,  neglected 
stairway  led  to  the  lower  itage  of  the  castle  ?  This  stairway 
opened  into  an  unoccupied  room,  the  low  windows  of  which 
looked  out  upon  the  garden  of  Monbijou.  Nothing,  then, 
was  necessary  but  to  withdraw  the  bar  from  these  windows 
during  the  day;  they  could  then  be  noiselessly  opened  by 
night,  and  the  room  of  the  princess  safely  reached. 

The  princess  was  silent.  By  no  look  or  smile,  no  con- 
traction of  the  brow  or  expression  of  displeasure,  did  she 
show  her  emotion,  but  she  listened  to  these  vile  and  danger- 
ous words ;  she  let  the  poison  of  the  tempter  enter  her  heart ; 
she  had  neither  the  strength  nor  will  to  reject  his  counsel, 
or  banish  him  from  her  presence ;  she  had  only  the  power  to 
be  silent,  and  to  conceal  from  PoUnitz  that  her  better  self 
was  overcome. 

"  I  shall  soon  reach  the  goal,"  said  Pollnitz,  clapping  his 
hands  merrily  after  leaving  the  princess.  "  Yes,  yes !  the 
heart  of  the  little  Princess  Amelia  is  subdued,  and  her  love 
is  like  a  ripe  fruit — ready  to  be  plucked  by  the  first  eager 
hand.  And  this,  my  proud  and  cruel  King  Frederick,  will 
be  my  revenge.  I  will  return  shame  for  shame.  If  the 
good  people  in  the  streets  rejoice  to  hear  the  humiliation 
and  shame  put  upon  the  Baron  von  Pollnitz,  cried  aloud  at 
the  corners,  I  think  they  will  enjoy  no  less  the  scandal  about 
the  little  Princess  Amelia.  This  will  not,  to  be  sure,  be 
trumpeted  through  the  streets;  but  the  voice  of  Slander  is 
powerful,  and  her  lightest  whispers  are  eagerly  received." 

Pollnitz  gave  himself  up  for  a  while  to  these  wicked  and 
cruel  thoughts,  and  he  looked  like  a  demon  rejoicing  in  the 
anguish  of  his  victims.  He  soon  smoothed  his  brow,  how- 
ever, and  assumed  his  accustomed  gay  and  unembarrassed 
manner. 

"  But  before  I  revenge  myself,  I  must  be  paid,"  said  he, 
with  an  internal  chuckle.    "  I  shall  be  the  chosen  confidant 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    125 

in  this  adventure,  and  my  name  is  not  Pollnitz  if  I  do  not 
realize  a  large  profit.  Oh,  King  Frederick,  King  Frederick! 
I  think  the  little  Amelia  will  pay  but  small  attention  to  your 
command  and  your  menace.  She  will  lend  the  poor  Pollnitz 
gold;  yes,  gold,  much  gold!  and  I — I  will  pay  her  by  my 
silence." 

Giving  himself  up  to  these  happy  thoughts,  the  master  of 
ceremonies  sought  the  young  lieutenant,  in  order  to  hand 
him  the  letter  of  the  princess. 

"  The  fortress  is  ready  to  surrender,"  cried  he ;  "  ad- 
vance and  storm  it,  and  you  will  enter  the  open  door  of  the 
heart  as  conqueror.  I  have  prepared  the  way  for  you  to  see 
the  princess  every  day:  make  use  of  your  opportunities  like 
a  brave,  handsome,  young,  and  loving  cavalier.  I  predict 
you  will  soon  be  a  general,  or  a  prince,  or  something  great 
and  envied." 

"  A  general,  a  prince,  or  a  high  traitor,  who  must  lay  his 
head  upon  the  block  and  expiate  his  guilt  with  his  life,"  said 
Trench  thoughtfully.  "  Let  it  be  so.  In  order  to  become 
this  high  traitor,  I  must  first  be  the  happiest,  the  most  en- 
viable of  men,  I  shall  not  think  that  too  dearly  paid  for 
by  my  heart's  blood.  Oh,  Amelia,  Amelia !  I  love  thee 
boundlessly ;  thou  art  my  happiness,  my  salvation,  my  hope ; 
thou—" 

"  Enough,  enough ! "  said  Pollnitz,  laughing  and  placing 
his  hands  upon  his  ears.  These  are  well-known,  well-used, 
and  much-abused  phrases,  which  have  been  repeated  in  all 
languages  since  the  time  of  Adam,  and  which  after  all  are 
only  lovely  and  fantastic  lies.  Act,  my  young  friend,  but 
say  nothing;  you  know  that  walls  have  ears.  The  table 
upon  which  you  write  your  letters,  and  the  portfolio  in  which 
you  place  the  letters  of  the  princess,  to  be  guarded  to  all 
eternity,  both  have  prying  eyes.  Prudence,  prudence!  burn 
the  letters  of  the  princess,  and  write  your  own  with  sympa- 
thetic ink  or  in  cipher,  so  that  no  man  can  read  them,  and 
none  but  God  and  the  devil  may  know  your  dangerous  se- 
cret." 

Trenck  did  not  hear  one  word  of  this ;  he  was  too  happy, 
too  impassioned,  too  young,  to  listen  to  the  words  of  warn- 
ing and  caution  of  the  old  roue.    He  read  again  and  again. 


126  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUOI;  OH, 

and  with  ever-increasing  rapture,  the  letter  of  the  princess; 
he  pressed  it  to  his  throbbing  heart  and  glowing  lips,  and 
fixed  his  loving  eyes  upon  those  characters  which  her  hand 
had  written  and  her  heart  had  dictated. 

PoUnitz  looked  at  him  with  a  subdued  smile,  and  enjoyed 
his  raptures,  even  as  the  fox  enjoys  the  graceful  flappings 
of  the  wings,  the  gentle  movements  of  the  dove,  when  he 
knows  that  she  cannot  escape  him,  and  grants  her  a  few  mo- 
ments of  happiness  before  he  springs  upon  and  strangles  her. 
"  I  wager  that. you  know  that  letter  by  heart,"  said  he,  as  he 
slowly  lighted  a  match  in  order  to  kindle  his  cigar ;  "  am  I 
not  right  ?  do  you  not  know  it  by  heart  ?  " 

"  Every  word  is  written  in  letters  of  flame  upon  my 
heart." 

With  a  sudden  movement,  the  baron  snatched  the  paper 
from  the  young  man  and  held  it  in  the  flames. 

"  Stop !  stop !  "  cried  Frederick  von  Trenck,  and  he  tried 
to  tear  the  letter  from  him, 

Pollnitz  kept  him  off  with  one  arm  and  waved  the  burn- 
ing paper  over  his  head. 

"  My  God !  what  have  you  done  ? "  cried  the  young 
man. 

"  I  have  made  a  sacrifice  to  the  god  of  silence,"  said  he 
solemnly ;  "  I  have  burnt  this  paper  lest  it  might  be  used  to 
light  the  scaffold  upon  which  you  may  one  day  burn  as  a  high 
traitor.  Thank  me,  young  man.  I  have  perhaps  saved  you 
from  discovery  and  from  death." 


CHAPTER  ni. 

THE  WEDDING  FESTIVAL  OF  THE  PRINCESS  ULRICA. 

Truly  this  perfidious  friend  had,  for  one  day,  guarded 
the  secret  of  the  young  lovers  from  discovery;  but, the  poison, 
which  Pollnitz  in  his  worldly  cunning  prepared  for  them,  had 
entered  into  their  hearts.  For  some  days  they  met  under 
strong  restraint;  only  by  stolen  glances  and  sighs,  by  a  mo- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     127 

mentary  pressure  of  the  hand,  or  a  few  slightly  murmured 
words,  could  they  give  expression  to  their  rapture  and  their 
passion.  The  presence  of  another  held  their  hearts  and  lips 
in  bondage. 

Pollnitz  knew  full  well  that  there  was  no  surer  means  to 
induce  a  young  girl  to  grant  her  lover  an  interview  than  to 
force  them  to  meet  before  strange  witnesses,  to  bring  every 
word  and  look  into  captivity,  to  condemn  them  to  silence 
and  seeming  indifference.  The  glowing  heart  bounds 
against  these  iron  bands;  it  longs  to  cast  off  the  yoke  of 
silence,  and  to  breathe  unfettered  as  the  wanton  air.  Princess 
Amelia  had  borne  two  days  of  this  martyrdom,  and  her  cour- 
age failed.  She  was  resolved  to  grant  him  a  private  inter- 
view as  soon  as  he  dared  ask  for  it.  She  wished  to  see  this 
handsome  face,  now  clouded  by  melancholy,  illuminated  by 
the  sunshine  of  happiness ;  those  sad  eyes  "  should  look  up 
clear,  and  the  sorrowful  lips  should  smile;  she  would  make 
her  lover  happy ! "  She  thought  only  of  this ;  it  was  her 
only  wish. 

There  were  many  sad  hours  of  pain  and  anguish,  sad 
hours  in  which  she  saw  her  danger,  and  wished  to  escape.* 
In  her  despair  and  agony  she  was  almost  ready  to  cast  her- 
self at  the  feet  of  her  mother,  to  confess  all,  and  seek  this 
sure  protection  against  her  own  girlish  weakness;  but  the 
voice  of  love  in  her  heart  held  her  back  from  this  step;  she 
closed  her  eyes  to  the  abyss  which  was  before  her  and  pressed 
panting  onward  to  the  brink.  If  Amelia  had  had  a  friend, 
a  sister  whom  she  could  love  and  trust,  she  might  have  been 
saved;  but  her  rank  made  a  true  friend  impossible;  being 
a  princess,  she  was  isolated.  Her  oidy  friend  and  sister  had 
alienated  her  heart,  through  the  intrigues  by  which  she  had 
won  the  crown  of  Sweden. 

Perhaps  these  costly  and  magnificent  wedding  festivities 
which  would  have  been  prepared  for  her,  had  she  not  re- 
fused a  husband  worthy  of  her  birth,  aroused  her  anger,  and 
in  her  rage  and  her  despair  she  entered  upon  dangerous 
paths,  and  fell  into  the  cruel  snares  of  Pollnitz.  She  said 
to  herself :  "  Yes,  all  this  honor  and  glory  was  my  own,  but 
my  weak  heart  and  my  perfidious  sister  wrenched  them  from 
my  grasp.    Fate  offered  me  a  way  of  escape,  but  my  sister 


128  BERLIN  AND  SAN^-SOUCl;  OK, 

cast  me  into  the  abyss  in  which  I  now  stand ;  upon  her  rests 
the  responsibility.  Upon  her  head  be  my  tears,  my  despair, 
my  misery,  and  my  shame.  Ulrica  prevented  me  from  being 
a  queen;  well,  then,  I  will  be  simply  a  young  girl,  who  loves 
and  who  offers  up  all  to  her  beloved,  her  pride,  her  rank,  and 
the  unstained  greatness  of  her  ancestors.  For  Ulrica  be 
honor,  pomp,  and  power;  for  me  the  mj'stery  of  love,  and  a 
girl's  silent  happiness.  Who  can  say  which  of  us  is  most  to 
be  envied  ?  " 

These. were  indeed  happy,  sunny  days,  which  were  pre- 
pared for  the  bride  of  Adolph  Frederick  of  Holstein,  the 
Crown  Prince  of  Sweden.  Fete  succeeded  to  fete.  The 
whole  land  took  part  in  the  happiness  of  the  royal  family. 
All  the  provinces  and  cities  sent  deputations  to  congratulate 
the  king,  and  bring  rich  gifts  to  the  princess;  she  who 
had  been  always  cast  into  the  shade  by  the  more  noble  and 
bewildering  beauty  of  her  younger  sister,  had  now  become 
the  centre  of  attraction  in  all  these  superb  festivities  which 
followed  each  other  in  quick  succession.  It  was  in  honor  of 
the  Princess  Ulrica  that  the  king  gave  a  masked  ball  in  the 
opera-house,  to  which  the  whole  city  was  invited ;  for  her, 
on  the  evening  of  her  betrothal,  every  street  in  Berlin  was 
brilliantly  illuminated  with  wax-lights,  not  by  command  of 
the  king,  but  as  a  free-will  offering  of  the  people;  for  her 
the  queen,  at  Schonhausen,  gave  a  superb  ball;  for  her  the 
Swedish  ambassador  arranged  a  fete,  w^hose  fabulous  pomp 
and  extravagant  luxury  were  supposed  to  indicate  the  splen- 
dor which  awaited  her  in  her  new  home.  Lastly,  this  ball  at 
the  royal  palace,  to  which  not  only  the  nobles,  but  many  of 
the  wealthy  burghers  were  invited,  was  intended  as  a  special 
compliment  to  Ulrica. 

More  than  three  thousand  persons  moved  gayly  through 
these  royal  saloons,  odorous  with  the  perfume  of  flowers, 
glittering  with  wax-lights,  the  glimmer  of  diamonds,  and 
rich  gold  and  silver  embroideries — nothing  was  to  be  seen  but 
ravishing  toilets  and  happy  faces.  All  the  beauty,  youth, 
rank,  fame,  and  worth  of  Berlin  were  assembled  at  the  pal- 
ace; and  behind  these  lovely  ladies  and  glittering  cavaliers, 
the  wondering,  gaping  crowd,  of  common  men,  moved  slowly 
onward,  dumb  with  amazement  and  delight.     The  king  had 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     129 

commanded  that  no  well-dressed  person  should  be  denied 
entrance  to  the  castle. 

Those  who  had  cards  of  invitation  were  the  guests  of  the 
king,  and  wandered  freely  through  the  saloons.  Those  who 
came  without  cards  had  to  content  themselves  behind  the 
silken  ropes  stretched  across  one  side  of  the  rooms;  by 
means  of  this  rope  an  almost  invisible  and  yet  an  insur- 
mountable barrier  was  interposed  between  the  people  and  the 
court  circle. 

It  was  difficult  to  preserve  the  rules  and  customs  of 
courtly  etiquette  in  such  a  vast  assembly,  and  more  difficult 
still  to  see  that  every  man  was  received  and  served  as  the 
guest  of  a  king,  and  suitable  to  his  own  personal  merit. 
Crowds  of  lackeys  flew  through  the  rooms  bearing  silver 
plateaux  filled  with  the  richest  viands,  the  most  costly  fruits, 
and  the  rarest  wines.  Tables  were  loaded  with  the  luxuries 
of  every  clime  and  season,  and  the  clang  of  glasses  and  the 
sweet  sound  of  happy  laughter  were  heard  in  every  direction. 
The  king  expressed  a  proud  confidence  in  his  good  people  of 
Berlin,  and  declined  the  services  of  the  police.  He  com- 
missioned some  officers  of  his  life-guard  to  act  as  his  substi- 
tute and  play  the  host,  attending  to  the  wants  and  pleasures 
of  all.  Supper  was  prepared  in  the  picture-gallery  for  the 
court  circle. 

But  what  means  this  wild  laughter  which  echoes  suddenly 
through  the  vast  crowd  and  reaches  the  ear  of  the  king,  who 
looks  up  surprised  and  questioning,  to  his  master  of  cere- 
monies, and  orders  him  to  investigate  the  tumult?  In  a  few 
moments  Pollnitz  returned,  accompanied  by  a  young  officer, 
whose  tall  and  graceful  figure,  and  whose  handsome  face, 
glowing  with  youth,  pride,  and  energy,  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  the  noblest  ladies,  and  won  a  smile  of  admiration 
from  the  queen-mother. 

"  Sire,"  said  Pollnitz,  "  a  mask  in  the  guise  of  a  thief, 
and  in  the  zealous  pursuit  of  his  calling,  has  robbed  one  of 
the  officers  who  were  commanded  by  your  majesty  to  guard 
the  public  peace  and  property.  Look,  your  majesty,  at  our 
young  lieutenant.  Von  Trenck:  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd, 
his  rich,  gold-embroidered  scarf  has  been  adroitly  removed; 
in  his  zeal  for  your  service,  he  forgot  himself,  and  the  merry 


130  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

gnome,  whom  Trenck  should  have  kept  in  order,  has  made 
our  officer  the  target  for  his  sleight  of  hand.  This  jest,  sire, 
caused  the  loud  laughter  which  you  heard." 

The  eyes  of  the  king  rested  with  an  expression  of  kindli- 
ness and  admiration  upon  the  young  man,  and  the  Princess 
Amelia  felt  her  heart  tremble  with  joy  and  hope.  A  rich 
crimson  suffused  her  cheeks;  it  made  her  almost  happy  to 
see  that  her  lover  was  appreciated  by  her  exalted  brother  and 
king. 

"  I  have  watched  and  wondered  at  him  during  the  whole 
evening,"  said  the  king,  merrily;  "  his  glance,  like  the  eye  of 
Providence,  pierces  the  most  distant  and  most  obscure  cor- 
ner, and  sees  all  that  occurs.  That  he  who  sees  all  else  has 
forgotten  himself,  proves  that  he  is  not  vain,  and  that  he 
forgets  his  own  interests  in  the  discharge  of  his  public  duties. 
I  will  remember  this  and  reward  him,  not  in  the  gay  saloon, 
but  on  the  battle-field,  where,  I  am  sure,  his  scarf  will  not  be 
taken  from  him." 

Frederick  gave  his  hand  to  the  young  officer,  who  pressed 
It  Warmly  to  his  lips;  then  turning  to  the  queen-mother,  he 
said :  "  Madame,  I  know  that  this  young  man  has  been  com- 
mended to  you,  allow  me  also  to  bespeak  your  favor  in  his 
behalf;  will  your  majesty  have  the  grace  to  instruct  him  in 
all  the  qualities  which  should  adorn  a  noble  cavalier  ?  I  will 
make  him  a  warrior,  and  then  we  shall  possess  a  nobleman 
beyond  praise,  if  not  beyond  comparison." 

The  king,  rising  from  the  table,  left  his  seat  and  laid  his 
hand  kindly  upon  Trenck's  shoulder.  "  He  is  tall  enough," 
said  Frederick  laughing ;  "  for  that  he  may  thank  Provi- 
dence; let  him  not  be  satisfied  with  that,  but  strive  to  be 
great,  and  for  that  he  may  thank  himself."  He  nodded 
graciously  to  Trenck,  gave  his  arm  to  the  queen-mother,  and 
led  her  into  the  ball-room. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    131 
CHAPTER   IV. 

BEHIND  THE  CTUBTAIN. 

The  crowd  and  heat  of  the  dancing-saloon  were  intoler- 
able. All  wished  to  see  the  quadrille  in  which  the  two  prin- 
cesses, the  loveliest  women  of  the  court,  and  the  most  gal- 
lant cavaliers  were  to  appear.  The  music  also  was  a  special 
object  of  interest,  as  it  was  composed  by  the  king.  The 
first  quadrille  closed  in  the  midst  of  tumultuous  applause, 
restrained  by  no  courtly  etiquette.  The  partners  for  the 
second  quadrille  advanced  to  the  gay  and  inspiring  sound  of 
pipes  and  drums. 

The  Princess  Amelia  had  withdrawn  from  the  crowd  into 
a  window  recess.  She  was  breathless  and  exhausted  from 
the  dance  and  the  excitement  of  the  last  few  days.  She  re- 
quired a  few  moments  of  rest,  of  refreshment,  and  medita- 
tion. She  drew  the  heavy  silk  curtains  carefully  together, 
and  seated  herself  upon  the  little  tabouret  which  stood  in  the 
recess.  This  quiet  retreat,  this  isolation  from  the  thought- 
less crowd,  brought  peace  to  her  soul.  It  was  happiness  to 
close  her  weary  eyes,  and  indulge  in  sweet  dreams  to  the 
sound  of  this  glorious  music;  to  feel  herself  shut  off  from 
the  laughing,  heartless  crowd. 

She  leaned  her  lovely  head  upon  the  cushion,  not  to  sleep 
but  to  dream.  She  thought  of  her  sister,  who  would  soon 
place  a  crown  upon  her  head;  who  had  sold  herself  for  this 
crown  to  a  man  whom  she  had  never  seen,  and  of  whom  she 
knew  nothing,  but  that  he  was  heir  to  a  throne.  Amelia 
shuddered  at  the  thought  that  Ulrica  had  sacrificed  her  re- 
ligion to  this  man,  whom  she  knew  not,  and  had  promised  at 
God's  altar  to  love  and  be  faithful  to  him.  In  the  purity 
and  innocence  of  her  girlish  heart  she  considered  this  a 
crime,  a  sacrilege  against  love,  truth,  and  faith.  "I  will 
never  follow  Ulrica's  example,"  she  whispered  to  herself.  "  I 
will  never  sell  myself.  I  will  obey  the  dictates  of  my  heart 
and  give  myself  to  the  man  I  love."  As  she  said  this,  a  crim- 
son glow  overspread  her  cheeks,  and  she  opened  her  eyes  wide, 
as  if  she  hoped  to  see  the  man  she  loved  before  her,  and 
9 


132  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

wished  him  to  read  iu  her  steady  glance  the  sweet  confirma- 
tion of  the  words  she  had  so  lightly  whispered. 

"  No,  no !  I  will  never  marry  without  love.  I  love,  and 
as  there  can  be  but  one  true  love  in  a  true  life,  I  shall  never 
marry — then — "  She  ceased  and  bowed  her  head  upon  her 
bosom,  her  trembling  lips  refused  to  speak  the  hope  and 
dream  of  her  heart,  to  give  words  to  the  wild,  passionate 
thoughts  which  burned  like  lava  in  her  breast,  and,  like  the 
wild  rush  of  many  waters,  drowned  her  reason.  She  thought 
that  in  the  eloquence  of  her  great  love  she  might  touch 
the  heart  of  the  king,  and  in  the  magnanimity  of  his 
soul  he  might  allow  her  to  be  happy,  to  place  a  simple  myrtle- 
wreath  upon  her  brow.  She  repeated  the  friendly  and  ad- 
miring words  which  the  king  had  spoken  to  her  lover.  She 
saw  again  those  wondrous  eyes  resting  with  interest  and 
admiration  upon  the  splendid  form  of  the  young  baron.  A 
happy,  playful  smile  was  on  her  lip.  "  The  king  himself 
finds  him  handsome  and  attractive;  he  cannot  then  wonder 
that  his  sister  shares  his  opinion.  He  will  think  it  natural 
that  I  love  him — that — " 

A  wild  storm  of  applause  in  the  saloon  interrupted  the 
current  of  her  thoughts.  She  drew  the  curtains  slightly 
apart,  and  gazed  into  the.  room.  The  second  quadrille  was 
ended,  and  the  dancers  were  now  sinking  upon  the  tabourets, 
almost  breathless  from  fatigue. 

The  princess  could  not  only  see,  but  she  could  hear.  Two 
ladies  stood  just  in  front  of  the  curtains  behind  which  she 
was  concealed,  engaged  in  earnest  conversation;  they  spoke 
of  Frederick  von  Trenck;  they  were  enraptured  with  his 
athletic  form  and  glowing  eyes. 

"  He  has  the  face  of  a  Ganymede  and  the  figure  of  a 
Hercules,"  said  one.  "  I  think  him  as  beautiful  as  the 
Apollo  Belvedere,"  said  the  other ;  "  and  then  his  expression 
is  so  pure  and  innocent.  I  envy  the  woman  who  will  be  his 
first  love." 

"  You  think,  then,  that  he  has  never  loved  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  The  passion  and  fire  of  his  heart  are 
yet  concealed  under  the  veil  of  youth.  He  is  unmoved  by 
a  woman's  tender  smiles  and  her  speaking  and  promising 
glances.    He  does  not  understand  their  meanin^p." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     133 

"  Have  you  tried  these  powerful  weapons  ?  " 

"  I  have,  and  I  confess  wholly  in  vain ;  but  I  have  not 
given  up  the  contest,  and  I  shall  renew  the  attack  until — " 

The  ladies  now  moved  slowly  away,  and  the  princess 
heard  no  more,  but  she  knew  their  voices ;  they  were  Madame 
von  Brandt  and  Louise  von  Kleist,  whom  the  king  often 
called  the  "  loveliest  of  the  lovely."  Louise  von  Kleist,  the 
irresistible  coquette,  who  was  always  surrounded  by  wor- 
shippers and  adorers,  confessed  to  her  friend  that  all  her 
tender  glances  had  been  unavailing ;  that  she  had  in  vain  at- 
tempted to  melt  the  ice-rind  of  his  heart. 

"  But  she  will  renew  her  efforts,"  cried  Amelia,  and  her 
heart  trembled  with  its  first  throb  of  jealousy.  "  Oh,  I 
know  Louise  von  Kleist!  She  will  pursue  him  with  her 
tenderness,  her  glances  of  love,  and  bold  encouragement, 
until  he  admires,  falls  at  her  feet  a  willing  victim.  But  no, 
no,  I  cannot  suffer  that.  She  shall  not  rob  me  of  my  only 
happiness — the  golden  dream  of  my  young  life.  He  be- 
longs to  me,  he  is  mine  by  the  mighty  power  of  passion,  he  is 
bound  to  me  by  a  thousand  holy  oaths.  I  am  his  first  love. 
I  am  that  happy  woman  whom  he  adores,  and  who  is  envied 
by  the  beauteous  Louise  von  Schwerin.  He  is  mine  and  he 
shall  be  mine,  in  spite  of  the  whole  world.  I  love  him,  and  I 
give  myself  to  him." 

And  now  she  once  more  looked  through  the  curtains 
and  shrank  back  in  sweet  surprise.  Right  before  her  stood 
T  re  nek — the  Apollo  of  Louise  von  Kleist,  the  Hercules  and 
the  Ganymede  of  Madame  von  Brandt,  the  beloved  of  the 
Princess  Amelia — Trenck  stood  with  folded  arms  immovable, 
and  gazed  piercingly  in  the  crowd  of  maskers.  Perhaps  he 
sought  for  Amelia;  perhaps  he  was  sorrowful  because  she 
had  withdrawn  herself. 

Suddenly  he  heard  a  soft,  low  voice  whispering :  "  Do 
not  move,  do  not  turn — remain  standing  as  you  are;  but  if 
you  hear  and  understand  me,  bow  your  head." 

Frederick  von  Trenck  bowed  his  head.  But  the  princess 
could  not  see  the  rapturous  expression  which  illuminated  his 
face;  she  could  not  know  that  his  breath  almost  failed  him; 
she  could  not  hear  the  stormy,  tumultuous  beating  of  his 
heart. 


134  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  Do  you  know  who  speaks  ?  if  j'ou  recognize  mo,  incline 
your  head." 

The  music  sounded  loud  and  clear,  and  the  dancing  feet, 
the  gay  jest,  and  merry  laughter  of  five  hundred  persona 
gave  confidence  and  security  to  the  lovers.  Frederick  was 
not  content  with  this  silent  sign.  He  turned  toward  the 
recess  and  said  in  low  tones :  "  I  know  the  voice  of  my  angel, 
and  I  would  fall  upon  my  knees  and  worship  her,  but  it  would 
bring  danger  and  separation." 

"  Still !  say  no  more,"  whispered  the  voice ;  and  Trenck 
knew  by  its  trembling  tones,  that  the  maiden  was  inspired  by 
the  same  ardent  passion  which  glowed  in  every  fibre  of  his 
being.  That  still  small  voice  sounded  in  his  ears  like  the 
notes  of  an  organ :  "  Say  no  more,  but  listen.  To-morrow 
the  Princess  Ulrica  departs  for  Sweden,  and  the  king  goes  to 
Potsdam;  you  will  accompany  him.  Have  you  a  swift  horse 
that  knows  the  way  from  Potsdam  to  Berlin,  and  can  find  it 
by  night  ? " 

"  I  have  a  swift  horse,  and  for  me  and  my  horse  there  is 
no  night." 

"  Four  nights  from  this  you  will  find  the  window  which 
you  know  open,  and  the  door  which  leads  to  the  small  stair, 
only  closed.  Come  at  the  hour  of  eleven,  and  you  will  re- 
ceive a  compensation  for  the  scarf  you  have  lost  this  evening. 
Hush — no  word;  look  not  around,  move  onward  indifferent- 
ly ;  turn  not  your  head.  Farewell !  in  four  days — at  eleven 
-go!" 

"  I  had  to  prepare  a  coat  of  mail  for  him,  in  order  that 
he  might  be  invulnerable,"  whispered  Amelia  tremblingly; 
exhausted  and  remorseful,  she  sank  back  upon  the  tabouret. 
"  The  beautiful  Kleist  shall  not  ravish  my  beloved  from  me. 
He  loves  me — me  alone;  and  he  shall  no  longer  complain  of 
my  cruelty.  I  dare  not  be  cruel!  I  dare  not  make  him  un- 
happy, for  she  might  comfort  him.  He  shall  love  nothing 
but  me,  only  me!  If  Louise  von  Kleist  pursues  him  with 
her  arts,  I  will  murder  her — ^that  is  all ! " 


FEEDERICK  THE  GEEAT  JlHD  HIS  FEIENDS.    135 
CHAPTER   V. 

A  SHAME-FACED  KING. 

The  king  laid  his  flute  aside,  and  walked  restlessly  and 
sullenly  about  his  room.  His  brow  was  clouded,  and  he  had 
in  vain  sought  distraction  in  his  faithful  friend,  the  flute. 
Its  soft,  melodious  voice  brought  no  relief ;  the  cloud  was  in 
his  heart,  and  made  him  the  slave  of  melancholy.  Perhaps 
it  was  the  pain  of  separation  from  his  sister  which-  oppressed 
his  spirit. 

The  evening  before,  the  princess  had  taken  leave  of  tMe 
Berliners  at  the  opera-house,  that  is,  she  had  shown  herself 
to  them  for  the  last  time.  While  the  prima  donna  was  sing- 
ing her  most  enchanting  melodies,  the  travelling  carriage  of 
Ulrica  drove  to  the  door.  The  king  wished  to  spare  himself 
the  agony  of  a  formal  parting,  and  had  ordered  that  she 
should  enter  her  carriage  at  the  close  of  the  opera,  and  de- 
part, without  saying  farewell. 

The  people  knew  this.  They  were  utterly  indifferent  to 
the  beautiful  opera  of  "  Eodelinda,"  and  fixed  their  eyes 
steadily  upon  the  king's  loge.  They  thus  took  a  silent  and 
affectionate  leave  of  their  young  princess,  who  appeared  be- 
fore them  for  the  last  time,  in  all  the  splendor  of  her  youth 
and  beauty,  and  the  dignity  of  her  proud  and  royal  bearing. 
An  unwonted  silence  reigned  throughout  the  house ;  all  eyes 
were  turned  to  the  box  where  the  princess  sat  between  the 
two  queens.  Suddenly  the  door  was  thrown  open,  and  the 
young  Prince  Ferdinand  rushed,  with  open  arms,  to  his 
sister. 

"  My  dear,  dear  Ulrica !  "  he  cried,  weeping  and  sobbing 
painfully,  "  must  it  then  be  so  ?  Do  I  indeed  see  you  for  the 
last  time  ?  "  With  childish  eagerness  he  embraced  his  sister, 
and  leaned  his  head  upon  her  bosom.  The  princess  could  no 
longer  control  herself;  she  mingled  her  tears  with  those  of 
her  brother,  and  drawing  him  softly  out  of  view,  she  whis- 
pered weeping  and  trembling  words  of  tenderness;  she  im- 
plored him  not  to  forget  her,  and  promised  to  love  him  al- 
ways. 


136  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

The  queen-mother  stood  near.  She  had  forgotten  that 
she  was  a  queen,  and  remembered  only  that  she  was  a  mother 
about  to  lose  her  child  forever;  the  thought  of  royal  dignity 
and  courtly  etiquette  was  for  some  moments  banished  from 
her  proud  heart;  she  saw  her  children  heart-broken  and 
weeping  before  her,  and  she  wept  with  them.* 

The  people  saw  this.  Never  had  the  most  gracious  smile, 
the  most  condescending  word  of  her  majesty,  won  their  hearts 
so  completely  as  these  tears  of  the  mother.  Every  mother 
felt  for  this  woman,  who,  though  a  queen,  suffered  a  mother's 
anguish;  and  every  maiden  wept  with  this  young  girl,  who, 
although  entering  upon  a  splendid  future,  shed  hot  tears 
over  the  happy  past  and  the  beloved  home.  When  the  men 
saw  their  wives  and  children  weeping,  and  the  prince  not 
ashamed  of  his  tears,  they  also  wept,  from  sympathy  and 
love  to  the  royal  house.  In  place  of  the  gay  jest  and  merry 
laughter  wont  to  prevail  between  the  acts,  scarcely  sup- 
pressed sobs  were  the  only  sounds  to  be  heard.  The  glorious 
singer  Salimberri  was  unapplauded.  The  Barbarina  danced, 
but  the  accustomed  bravos  were  hushed. 

Was  it  the  remembrance  of  this  touching  scene  which 
moved  the  king  so  profoundly?  Did  this  eternal  separation 
from  his  beloved  sister  weigh  upon  his  heart?  The  king 
himself  knew  not,  or  he  would  not  acknowledge  to  himself 
what  emotion  produced  this  wild  unrest.  After  laying  his 
flute  aside,  he  took  up  Livy,  which  lay  always  upon  his 
writing-table,  and  tried  to  read  a  chapter;  but  the  letters 
danced  before  his  eyes,  and  his  thoughts  wandered  far 
away  from  the  old  Roman.  He  threw  the  book  peevishly 
aside,  and,  folding  his  arms,  walked  rapidly  backward  and 
forward. 

"  Ah  me !  ah  me !  I  wish  this  were  the  day  of  battle !  " 
he  murmured.  "  To-day  I  should  be  surely  victorious !  I 
am  in  a  fierce  and  desperate  mood.  The  wild  roar  of  con- 
flict would  be  welcome  as  a  sweet  home  song  in  a  strange 
land,  and  the  shedding  of  blood  would  be  medicinal,  and  re- 
lieve my  oppressed  brain.  What  is  it  which  has  drawn  this 
veil  over  my  spirit?  What  mighty  and  mysterious  power 
has  stretched  her  hand  over  me?  With  what  bounds  am  I 
*  Schneider'a  "  History  of  the  Opera  and  the  Koyal  Opera-IIouse." 


FREDERICK  THE    GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    137 

held  a  helpless  captive?  I  feel,  but  I  cannot  see  them,  and 
cannot  tear  them  apart.  No,  no!  I  will  be  lord  of  myself. 
I  will  be  no  silent  dreamer.  I  will  live  a  true  life.  I  will 
work,  and  be  a  faithful  ruler,  if  I  cannot  be  a  free  and 
happy  man." 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  the  ministers  to  assemble 
for  a  cabinet  council. 

"  I  will  work,  and  forget  every  thing  else,"  he  said,  with  a 
sad  smile,  and  he  entered  his  cabinet  with  this  proud  re- 
solve. 

This  time  the  king  deceived  himself.  The  most  earnest 
occupation  did  not  drive  the  cloud  from  his  brow :  in  fact,  it 
became  more  lowering. 

"  I  cannot  endure  this,"  he  said,  after  walking  backward 
and  forward  thoughtfully.  "  I  will  put  a  stop  to  it.  As  I 
am  not  a  Ulysses,  I  do  not  see  why  I  should  bind  my  eyes, 
and  stop  my  ears  with  wax,  in  order  not  to  see  this  bewilder- 
ing siren,  and  hear  her  intoxicating  song.  In  this  sorrowful 
and  pitiful  world,  is  it  not  a  happiness  to  meet  with  an  en- 
chantress, to  bow  down  to  the  magic  of  her  charms,  and  for 
a  small  half  hour  to  dream  of  bliss  ?  All  other  men  are  mad : 
why  should  I  alone  be  reasonable?  Come,  then,  spirit  of 
love  and  bliss,  heavenly  insanity,  take  possession  of  my 
struggling  soul.  Let  old  age  be  wise  and  cool,  I  am  young 
and  warm.  For  a  little  while  I  will  play  the  fool,  and  forget 
my  miserable  dignity." 

Frederick  called  his  servant,  and  sent  for  General  Eoth- 
enberg,  then  took  his  flute  and  began  to  play  softly.  When 
the  general  entered,  the  king  nodded  to  him,  but  quietly 
finished  his  adagio;  then  laid  the  flute  aside,  and  gave  his 
hand  to  his  friend. 

"  You  must  be  Pylades,  my  friend,  and  banish  the  de- 
spondency which  oppresses  the  heart  and  head  of  thy  poor 
Orestes." 

"  I  will  be  all  that  your  majesty  allows  or  commands  me 
to  be,"  said  the  general,  laughing ;  "  but  I  think  the  queen- 
Inother  would  be  little  pleased  to  hear  your  majesty  compare 
yourself  to  Orestes." 

"  Ah,  you  allude  to  Clytemnestra's  faithless  love-story, 
with  which,  truly,  my  exalted  and  virtuous  mother  cannot 


138  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

be  associated.  Well,  my  comparisou  is  a  little  lame,  but  my 
despondency  is  real — deeply  seated  as  my  friendship  for 
you." 

"Howl  your  majesty  is  melancholy?  I  imderstand  this 
mood  of  my  king,"  said  Rothenberg.  "  It  only  takes  pos- 
session of  you  the  day  before  some  great  deed,  and  only  then 
because  the  night  before  the  day  of  triumph  seems  too  long. 
Your  majesty  confesses  that  you  are  sad.  I  conclude,  there- 
fore, that  we  will  soon  have  war,  and  soon  rejoice  in  the  vic- 
tories of  our  king." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  said  the  king,  smiling.  "  I 
do  not  love  war,  but  it  is  sometimes  a  necessary  evil ;  and  if 
I  cannot  relieve  my  godmother,  Maria  Theresa,  of  this  mor- 
tal malady  of  pride  and  superciliousness  without  a  general 
blood-letting,  I  must  even  play  the  physician  and  open  a 
vein.  The  alliance  with  France  is  concluded;  Charles  the 
Seventh  goes  to  Frankfort  for  coronation;  the  French  am- 
bassador accompanies  him,  and  my  army  stands  ready  for 
battle,  ready  to  protect  the  emperor  against  Austria.  We 
will  soon  have  war,  friend,  and  I  hope  we  will  soon  have  a 
victory  to  celebrate.  In  a  few  weeks  we  will  advance.  Oh, 
Rothenberg !  when  I  speak  of  battle,  I  feel  that  I  am  young, 
that  my  heart  is  not  of  stone — it  bounds  and  beats  as  if  it 
would  break  down  its  prison  walls,  and  found  a  new  home 
of  glory  and  fame." 

"  The  heart  of  my  king  will  be  ever  yoimg ;  it  is  full  of 
trust  and  kindliness." 

Frederick  shook  his  head  thoughtfully.  "  Do  not  be- 
lieve that,  Rothenberg;  the  hands  that  labor  become  hard 
and  callous,  and  so  is  it  with  the  heart,  iline  has  labored 
and  suffered;  it  will  turn  at  last  to  stone.  Then  I  shall  be 
condemned.  The  world  will  forget  that  it  is  responsible; 
tliey  will  speak  only  of  my  hard  heart,  and  say  nothing  of 
the  anguish  and  the  deceptions  which  have  turned  me  to 
stone.  But  what  of  that?  Let  these  foolish  two-legged 
creatures,  who  proudly  proclaim  that  they  are  made  in  the 
image  of  God,  say  what  they  please  of  me ;  they  cannot  de- 
prive me  of  my  fame  and  my  immortality.  He  who  possesses 
that  has  received  his  reward,  and  dare  utter  no  complaint. 
Truly  Erostratus  and   Schinderhannes  are  celebrated,  and 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     139 

Eulenspiegle  is  better  known  aud  beloved  by  the  people  than 
Socrates." 

"  This  proves  that  Wisdom  herself  must  take  the  trouble 
to  make  herself  popular/'  said  Rothenberg.  "  True  fame  is 
only  obtained  by  popularity.  Alexander  the  Great  aud 
Caesar  were  popular,  and  their  names  were  therefore  in  the 
mouths  of  the  people.  This  was  their  inheritance,  handed 
down  from  generation  to  generation,  from  father  to  sou. 
So  will  it  be  with  King  Frederick  the  Second.  He  is  not 
only  the  king  and  the  hero,  but  he  is  the  man  of  the  people. 
His  fame  will  not  be  written  alone  on  the  tablets  of  history 
by  the  Muses;  the  people  will  write  it  on  the  pure,  white, 
vacant  leaves  of  their  Bibles ;  the  children  and  graudchildreu 
will  read  it ;  and,  centuries  hence,  the  curious  searchers  into 
history  will  consider  this  as  fame,  and  exalt  the  name  of 
Frederick  the  Great." 

"  God  grant  it  may  be  so ! "  said  the  king  solemnly. 
"You  know  that  I  am  ambitious.  I  believe  that  this  pas- 
sion is  the  most  enduring,  and  that  its  burning  thirst  is 
never  quenched.  As  crown  prince,  I  was  ever  humiliated  by 
the  thought  that  the  love,  consideration,  and  respect  shown 
to  me  was  no  tribute  to  my  worth,  but  was  oifered  to  u 
prince,  the  son  of  a  powerful  king.  With  what  admiration, 
with  what  enthusiasm  did  I  look  at  Voltaire !  he  needed  no 
high  birth,  no  title,  to  be  considered,  honored,  and  envied  by 
the  whole  world.  I,  however,  must  have  rank,  title,  princely 
revenues,  and  a  royal  genealogical  tree,  in  order  to  fix  the  eyes 
of  men  upon  me.  Ah,  how  often  did  I  remind  myself  of  the 
history  of  that  great  prince,  who,  surrounded  by  his  enemies, 
and  about  to  surrender,  saw  his  servants  aud  friends  despair- 
ing and  weeping  around  him!  He  smiled  upon  them,  and 
uttered  these  few  but  expressive  words :  *  I  feel  by  j'our  tears 
that  I  am  still  a  king.'  I  swore  then  to  be  like  that  noble 
man,  to  owe  my  fame,  not  to  my  royal  mantle,  but  to  my- 
self. I  have  fulfilled  but  a  small  portion  of  my  oath.  I  hope 
that  my  godmother,  Maria  Theresa,  and  the  Russian  empress, 
will  soon  afford  me  more  enlarged  opportunities.  Our 
enemies  are  indeed  our  best  friends;  they  enrage  and  in- 
spire us." 

"  In  so  saying,  sire,  you  condemn  us  all,  we  who  are  the 


140  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

most  faithful,  submissive,  and  enthusiastic  friends  of  your 
highness." 

"  You  are  also  useful  to  me,"  said  the  king.  "  You,  for 
example,  your  cheerful,  loving  face  does  me  good  whenever 
I  look  upon  it.  You  keep  my  heart  young  and  fresh,  and 
teach  me  to  laugh,  which  pleasant  art  I  am  constantly  for- 
getting in  the  midst  of  these  wearisome  and  hypocritical 
men.  I  never  laugh  so  merrily  as  when  I  am  with  you  at 
your  table,  where  I  have  the  high  privilege  of  laying  aside 
my  royalty,  and  being  a  simple,  happy  man  like  yourself. 
I  rejoice  in  the  prospect  of  this  evening,  and  I  am  impatient 
as  a  young  maiden  before  her  first  ball.  This  evening,  if  I 
remember  correctly,  I  am  invited  by  General  von  Eothenberg 
to  a.  petit  souper.^^ 

"Your  majesty  was  kind  enough  to  promise  me  that  you 
would  come." 

"  Do  you  know,  Eothenberg,  I  really  believe  that  the  ex- 
pectation of  this  fete  has  made  the  hours  of  the  day  so  long 
and  wearisome.  'Now,  tell  me,  who  are  we  to  have?  who 
takes  part  in  our  gayety  ? " 

"  Those  who  were  selected  by  your  majesty :  Chazot  and 
Algarotti,  Jordan  and  Bielfeld." 

"  Did  I  select  the  company  ? "  said  the  king,  thought- 
fully ;  "  then  I  wonder  that — "  He  stopped,  and,  looking 
down,  turned  away  silently. 

"  What  causes  your  majesty's  wonder  ? "  said  the  gen- 
eral. 

"  I  am  surprised  that  I  did  not  ask  jou  to  give  us  Rhine 
wine  this  evening,"  said  the  king,  with  a  sly  smile. 

"  Rhine  wine !  why,  your  majesty  has  often  told  me  that 
it  was  a  slow  poison,  and  produced  death." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true,  but  what  will  you  have  ?  There  are 
many  things  in  this  incomprehensible  world  which  are 
poisonous,  and  which,  for  that  reason,  are  the  more  alluring. 
This  is  peculiarly  so  with  women.  He  does  well  who  avoids 
them;  they  bewilder  our  reason  and  make  our  hearts  sick, 
but  we  do  not  flee  from  them.  We  pursue  them,  and  the 
poison  which  they  infuse  in  our  veins  is  sweet;  we  quaff  it 
rapturously,  though  death  is  in  the  cup." 

"In  this,  however,  your  majesty  is  wiser  than  all  other 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    141 

men:  you  alone  have  the  power  to  turn  away  from  or  with- 
stand them." 

"  Who  knows  ?  perhaps  that  is  sheer  cowardice,"  said  the 
king;  he  turned  away  confused,  and  beat  with  his  fingers 
upon  the  window-glass.  "  I  called  the  Rhine  wine  poison, 
because  of  its  strength.  I  think  now  that  it  alone  deserves 
to  be  called  wine — it  is  the  only  wine  which  has  bloom." 
Frederick  was  again  silent,  and  beat  a  march  upon  the 
window. 

The  general  looked  at  him  anxiously  and  thoughtf vdly ; 
suddenly  his  countenance  cleared,  and  a  half-suppressed 
smile  played  upon  his  lips. 

"  I  will  allow  myself  to  add  a  conclusive  word  to  those  of 
my  king,  that  is,  a  moral  to  his  fable.  Your  majesty  says 
Rhine  wine  is  the  only  wine  which  deserves  the  name,  be- 
cause it  alone  has  bloom.  So  I  will  call  that  society  only  so- 
ciety which  is  graced  and  adorned  by  women.  Women  are 
the  bloom  of  society.     Do  you  not  agree  with  me,  sire  ?  " 

"  If  I  agree  to  that  proposition,  it  amounts  to  a  request 
that  you  will  invite  women  to  our  fete  this  evening — will  it 
not  ?  "  said  the  king,  still  thrumming  on  the  window. 

"  And  with  what  rapture  would  I  fulfil  your  wish,  but  I 
fear  it  would  be  difficult  to  induce  the  ladies  to  come  to  the 
house  of  a  young  bachelor  as  I  am ! " 

"  Ah,  bah !  I  have  determined  during  the  next  winter  to 
give  these  little  suppers  very  often.  I  will  have  a  private 
table,  and  women  shall  be  present." 

"  Yes,  but  your  majesty  is  married." 

"  They  would  come  if  I  were  a  bachelor.  The  Countess 
Camas,  Frau  von  Brandt,  the  Kleist,  and  the  Morien,  are 
too  witty  and  too  intellectual  to  be  restrained  by  narrow- 
minded  prejudice." 

"  Does  your  majesty  wish  that  I  should  invite  these 
ladies?"  said  the  general;  "they  will  come,  without  doubt, 
if  your  majesty  commands  it.     Shall  I  invite  them?  " 

The  king  hesitated  a  moment  to  reply.  "  Perhaps  they 
would  not  come  willingly,"  said  he ;  "  you  are  unmarried, 
and  they  might  be  afraid  of  their  husbands'  anger." 

"  I  must,  then,  invite  ladies  who  are  not  married,"  said 
Rothenberg,  whose  face  was  now  radiant  with  delight ;  "  but 


142  BEELIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

I  do  not  know  one  unmarried  lady  of  the  higher  circles  who 
carries  her  freedom  from  prejudice  so  far  as  to  dare  attend  a 
bachelor's  supper." 

"  ]!*Iust  we  always  confine  our  invitations  to  the  higher 
circles? "  said  the  king,  beating  his  parade  march  still  more 
violently  upon  the  window. 

Rotheuberg  watched  him  with  the  eye  of  a  sportsman, 
who  sees  the  wild  deer  brought  to  bay. 

"  If  your  majesty  will  condescend  to  set  etiquette  aside,  I 
will  make  a  proposition." 

"Etiquette  is  nonsense  and  folly,  and  shall  not  do  the 
honors  by  oxir  j^etits  soupers;  pleasure  only  presides." 

"  Then  I  propose  that  we  invite  some  of  the  ladies  from 
the  theatre — is  your  majesty  content?" 

"  Fully !  but  which  of  the  ladies  ? "  said  the  king. 

"  That  is  your  majesty's  affair,"  said  Rothenberg,  smiling. 
"  You  have  selected  the  gentlemen,  will  it  please  you  to  name 
the  ladies?" 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  king,  hesitating,  "  what  say  you 
to  Cochois,  Astrca,  and  the  little  Petrea  ? " 

"  Sire,  they  will  be  all  most  welcome ;  but  I  pray  you  to 
allow  me  to  add  one  name  to  your  list,  the  name  of  a  woman 
who  is  more  lovely,  more  gracious,  more  intellectual,  more 
alluring,  than  all  the  prima  donnas  of  the  world;  who  has 
the  power  to  intoxicate  all  men,  not  excepting  emperors  and 
kings,  and  make  them  her  willing  slaves.  Dare  I  name  her, 
sire?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  The  Signora  Barbarina."' 

The  king  turned  his  head  hastily,  and  his  burning  eyes 
rested  questioningly  upon  the  face  of  Rothenberg,  who  met 
his  glance  with  a  merry  look. 

Frederick  was  silent;  and  the  general,  making  a  pro- 
found bow,  said  solemnly :  "  I  pray  your  majesty  to  allow  mo 
to  invite  Mesdames  Cochois,  Astrea,  and  Petrea,  also  the 
Signora  Barbarina,  to  our  petit  souper^ 

"Four  prima  donnas  at  once!"  said  the  king,  laughing; 
"  that  would  be  dangerous ;  we  would,  perhaps,  have  the  in- 
teresting spectacle  of  seeing  them  tear  out  each  other's  eyes. 
No,  no!  to  enjoy  the  glories  of  the  sun,  there  must  be  no 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    I43 

rival  suns  in  the  horizon;  we  will  invite  but  one  etichant- 
ress,  and  as  you  are  the  host,  you  have  the  undoubted 
right  to  select  her.  Let  it  be  then  the  Signora  Barba- 
rina."  * 

"  Your  majesty  graciously  permits  me  to  invite  the  Sig- 
nora Barbarina  ? "  said  Kqthenberg,  looking  the  king  stead- 
ily in  the  face ;  a  rich  blush  suffused  the  cheeks  of  Frederick. 
Suddenly  he  laughed  aloud,  and  laying  his  arm  around  the 
neck  of  his  friend,  he  looked  in  his  radiant  face  with  an  ex- 
pression  of  confidence  and  love. 

"You  are  a  provoking  scamp,"  said  Frederick.  "You 
understood  me  from  the  beginning,  and  left  me  hanging,  like 
Absalom,  upon  the  tree.     That  was  cruel,  Rothenberg." 

"  Cruel,  but  well  deserved,  sire.  Why  would  you  not 
make  known  your  wishes  clearly?  Why  leave  me  to  guess 
them?" 

"  Why  ?  My  God !  it  is  sometimes  so  agreeable  and  con- 
venient to  have  your  wishes  guessed.  The  murder  is  out. 
You  will  invite  the  beautiful  Barbarina.  You  can  also  in- 
vite another  gentleman,  an  artist,  in  order  that  the  lovely 
Italian  may  not  feel  so  lonely  amongst  us  barbarians." 

"  What  artist,  sire  ?  " 

"  The  painter  Pesne ;  go  yourself  to  invite  him.  It 
might  be  well  for  him  to  bring  paper  and  pencil — he  will 
assuredly  have  an  irresistible  desire  to  make  a  sketch  of  this 
beautiful  nymph." 

"  Command  him  to  do  so,  sire,  and  then  to  make  a  life- 
size  picture  from  the  sketch." 

"  Ah !  so  you  wish  a  portrait  of  the  Barbarina  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sire ;  but  not  for  myself." 

"  For  whom,  then  ?  " 

"To  have  the  pleasure  of  presenting  it  to  my  king." 

"And  why?" 

"  Because  I  am  vain  enough  to  believe  that,  as  my  pres- 
ent, the  picture  would  have  some  value  in  your  eyes,"  said 
Rothenberg,  mockingly.  "  What  cares  my  king  for  a  por- 
trait of  the  Barbarina?  Nothing,  sa7is  doute.  But  when 
this  picture  is  not  only  painted  by  the  great  Pesne,  but  is 
also  the  gift  of  a  dear,  faithful  friend,  I  wager  it  will  be 
*  Bodenbeck  ;  '■'  Journal  of  Frederick  the  Great," 


144  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

highly  appreciated  by  your  majesty,  and  you  will  perhaps  be 
gracious  enough  to  hang  it  in  your  room." 

"  You !  you !  "  said  the  king,  pointing  his  finger  threat- 
eningly at  Rothenberg,  "  I  am  afraid  of  you.  I  believe  you 
listen  to  and  comprehend  my  most  secret  thoughts,  and  form 
your  petition  according  to  my  wishes.  I  will,  like  a  good- 
natured,  easy  fool,  grant  this  request.  Go  and  invite  the 
Barbarina  and  the  painter  Pesne,  and  commission  him  to 
paint  a  life-size  picture  of  the  fair  one.*  Pesne  must  have 
several  sketches,  and  I  will  choose  from  amongst  them." 

"I  thank  your  majesty,"  cried  the  general;  "and  now 
have  the  goodness  to  dismiss  me — I  must  make  my  prepara- 
tions." 

As  Rothenberg  stood  upon  the  threshold,  the  king  called 
him.  "  You  have  guessed  my  thoughts,  and  now  I  will 
prove  to  you  that  I  read  yours.     You  think  I  am  in  love." 

'  "  In  love  ?  What !  I  dare  to  think  that  ?  "  said  the  gen- 
eral ;  and  folding  his  hands  he  raised  his  eyes  as  if  in  prayer. 
"  Shall  I  dare  to  have  such  an  unholy  thought  in  connection 
with  my  anointed  king  ?  " 

The  king  laughed  heartily.  "  As  to  my  sanctity,  I  think 
the  holy  Antonius  will  not  proclaim  me  as  his  brother.  But 
I  am  not  exactly  in  love."  He  stepped  to  the  window,  upon 
the  sill  of  which  a  Japanese  rose  stood  in  rich  bloom;  he 
plucked  one  of  the  lovely  flowers,  and  handing  it  to  the  gen- 
eral, he  said :  "  Look,  now !  is  it  not  enchantingly  beauti- 
ful? Think  you,  that  because  I  am  a  king,  I  have  no  heart, 
no  thirst  for  beauty?  Go!  but  remember  that,  though  a 
king,  I  have  the  eyes  and  the  passions  of  otlier  men.  I,  too, 
am  intoxicated  by  the  perfume  of  flowers  and  the  beauty  of 


*  This  splendid  picture  of  Barbarina  hung  for  a  long  time  in  the  king'» 
cabinet,  and  is  still  to  be  seen  in  the  Royal  Palace  at  Berlin. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    14:5 
CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  FIRST  RENDEZVOUS. 

The  night  was  dark  and  still;  so  dark  in  the  garden  of 
Monbijou,  that  the  keenest  eye  could  not  detect  the  forms  of 
the  two  men  who  slipped  stealthily  among  the  trees;  so  still, 
that  the  slightest  contact  of  their  clothing  with  the  motion- 
less leaves,  and  the  slightest  footstep  in  the  sand  could  be 
heard.  But,  happily,  there  was  none  to  listen;  unchallenged 
and  unseen,  the  two  muffled  figures  entered  the  avenue,  at 
the  end  of  which  stood  the  little  palace,  the  summer  resi- 
dence of  the  queen-mother.  Here  they  rested  for  a  moment, 
and  cast  a  searching  glance  at  the  building,  which  stood 
also  dark  and  silent  before  them. 

"  'No  light  in  the  windows  of  the  queen-mother,"  whis- 
pered one ;  "  all  asleep." 

"  Yes,  all  asleep,  we  have  nothing  to  fear ;  let  us  go  on- 
ward." The  last  speaker  made  a  few  hasty  steps  forward, 
but  his  companion  seized  him  hastily  by  the  arm,  and  held 
him  back. 

"  You  forget,  my  young  Hotspur,  that  we  must  wait  for 
the  signal.  Still!  still!  do  not  stamp  so  impatiently  with 
your  feet;  you  need  not  shake  yourself  like  a  young  lion. 
He  who  goes  upon  such  adventures  must,  above  all  things, 
be  self-possessed,  cautious,  and  cool.  Believe  me,  I  have  had 
a  long  range  of  experience,  and  in  this  species  of  love  ad- 
venture I  think  I  might  possibly  rival  the  famous  King 
Charles  the  Second,  of  England." 

"  But  here  there  is  no  question  of  love  adventure,  Baron 
PoUnitz,"  said  his  companion  impatiently,  almost  fiercely. 

"  Kot  of  love  adventure,  Baron  Trenck !  well,  may  I  daro 
to  ask  what  is  the  question  ?  " 

"  A  true — an  eternal  love !  " 

"  Ah !  a  true,  an  eternal  love,"  repeated  Pollnitz,  with  a 
dry,  mocking  laugh.  "  All  honor  to  this  true  love,  which, 
with  all  the  reasons  for  its  justification,  and  all  the  pathos 
of  its  heavenly  source,  glides  stealthily  to  the  royal  palace, 
and  hides  itself  under  the  shadow  of  the  silent  night.     My 


146  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUOI;  OR, 

good  young  sentimentalist,  remember  I  am  not  a  novice  like 
yourself;  I  am  an  old  fogy,  and  call  things  by  their  right 
names.  Every  passion  is  a  true  and  eternal  love,  and  every 
loved  one  is  an  angel  of  virtue,  beauty,  and  purity,  until  we 
weary  of  the  adventure,  and  seek  a  new  distraction." 

"  You  are  a  hopeless  infidel,"  said  Trenck,  angrily ; 
"  truly  he  who  has  changed  his  faith  as  often  as  you  have, 
has  no  religion — not  even  the  religion  of  love.  But  look! 
a  light  is  shown,  and  the  window  is  opened;  that  is  the 
signal." 

"  You  are  right,  that  is  the  signal.  Let  us  go,"  whispered 
PoUnitz;  and  he  stepped  hastily  after  the  young  oflBcer. 

And  now  they  stood  before  the  window  on  the  ground 
floor,  where  the  light  had  been  seen  for  a  moment.  The 
window  was  half  open. 

"  We  have  arrived,"  said  Trenck,  breathing  heavily ; 
"  now,  dear  Pollnitz,  farewell ;  it  cannot  certainly  be  your  in- 
tention to  go  farther.  The  princess  commissioned  you  to 
accompany  me  to  the  castle,  but  she  did  not  intend  you 
should  enter  with  me.  You  must  understand  this.  Yoxi 
boast  that  you  are  rich  in  experience,  and  will  therefore^ 
readily  comprehend  that  the  presence  of  a  third  party  is  ab- 
horrent to  lovers.  I  know  that  you  are  too  amiable  to  make 
your  friends  wretched.     Farewell,  Baron  Pollnitz." 

Trenck  was  in  the  act  of  springing  into  the  window,  but 
the  strong  arm  of  the  master  of  ceremonies  held  him  back. 

"  Let  me  enter  first,"  said  he,  "  and  give  me  a  little  as- 
sistance. Your  sophistical  exposition  of  the  words  of  our 
princess  is  entirely  thrown  away.  She  said  to  me,  *  At  eleven 
o'clock  I  will  expect  you  and  the  Baron  von  Trenck  in  my 
room.'  That  is  certainly  explicit — as  it  appears  to  me,  and 
needs  no  explanation.     Lend  me  your  arm." 

With  a  heavy  sigh,  Trenck  gave  the  required  assistance, 
and  then  sprang  lightly  into  the  room. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  and  follow  cautiously,"  said  Poll- 
nitz. "  I  know  every  step  of  the  way,  and  can  guard  you 
against  all  possible  accidents.  I  have  tried  this  path  often 
in  former  years,  particularly  when  Peter  the  Great  and  his 
wife,  with  twenty  ladies  of  her  suite,  occupied  this  wing  of 
the  castle." 


FREDERICK  THK  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    147 

"  Hush !  "  said  Trcnck ;  "  we  have  reached  the  top — on' 
ward,  silently." 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  I  will  lead  you." 

Carefully,  silently,  and  on  tip-toe,  they  passed  through 
the  dark  corridor,  and  .reached  the  door,  through  which  a 
light  shimmered.  They  tapped  lightly  upon  the  door, 
which  was  immediately  opened.  The  confidential  chamber- 
maid of  the  princess  came  forward  to  meet  them,  and  \ 
nodded  to  them  silently  to  follow  her;  they  passed  through 
several  rooms;  at  last  she  paused,  and  said,  earnestly: 
"  This  is  the  boudoir  of  the  princess ;  enter — ^you  are  ex- 
pected." 

With  a  hasty  movement,  Trenck  opened  the  ddOt— ^;his 
door  which  separated  him  from  his  first  love,  his  only  hope 
of  happiness.  He  entered  that  dimly-lighted  room,  toward 
which  his  weary,  longing  eyes  had  been  often  turned  almost 
hopelessly.  His  heart  beat  stormily,  his  breathing  was  ir- 
regular, he  thought  he  might  die  of  rapture;  he  feared  that 
in  the  wild  agitation  of  the  moment  he  might  utter  a  cry, 
indicative  as  much  of  suffering  as  of  joy. 

There,  upon  the  divan,  sat  the  Princess  Amelia.  The 
hanging  lamp  lighted  her  face,  which  was  fair  and  colorless. 
She  tried  to  rise  and  advance  to  meet  him,  but  she  had  no 
power;  she  extended  both  her  hands,  and  murmured  a  few 
unintelligible  words. 

Frederick  von  Trenck's  heart  read  her  meaning;  he 
rushed  forward  and  covered  her  hands  with  his  kisses  and  his 
tears;  he  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  murmured  words  of  rap- 
ture, of  glowing  thanks,  of  blessed  joy — words  which  filled 
the  trembling  heart  of  Amelia  with  delight. 

All  this  fell  uix)n  the  cold  but  listening  ears  of  the  master 
of  ceremonies,  and  seemed  to  him  as  sounding  brass  and  the 
tinkling  cymbal.  He  b«d  discreetly  and  modestly  withdrawn 
to  the  back  part  of  the  room ;  but  he  looked  on  like  a  world- 
ling, with  a  mocking  smile  at  the  rapture  of  the  two  lovers. 
He  soon  found,  however,  that  the  rdle  which  he  was  con- 
demned to  play  had  its  ridiculous  and  humiliating  aspect, 
and  he  resolved  to  bear  it  no  longer.  He  came  forward,  and 
with  his  usual  cool  impertinence  he  approached  the  princess, 
who  greeted  him  with  a  crimson  blush  and  a  silent  bow. 
10 


148  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"Pardon  me,  your  royal  highness,  if  I  dare  to  ask  you 
to  decide  a  question  which  has  arisen  between  my  friend 
Trenck  and  myself.  He  did  not  wish  to  allow  me  to  ac- 
company him  farther  than  the  castle  window.  I  declared 
that  I  was  authorized  by  your  royal  highness  to  enter  with 
him  this  holiest  of  holies.  Perhaps,  however,  I  was  in  error, 
and  have  carried  my  zeal  in  your  service  too  far.  I  pray 
you,  therefore,  to  decide.     Shall  I  go  or  stay  ?  " 

The  princess  had  by  this  time  entirely  recovered  her 
composure.  "  Remain,"  said  she,  with  a  ravishing  smile, 
and  giving  her  hand  to  the  baron.  "  You  were  our  confi- 
dant from  the  beginning,  and  I  desire  you  to  be  wholly  so. 
I  wish  you  to  be  fully  convinced  that  our  love,  though  com- 
pelled for  a  while  to  seek  darkness  and  obscurity,  need  not 
shun  the  eye  of  a  friend.  And  who  knows  if  we  may  not 
one  day  need  your  testimony?  I  do  not  deceive  myself.  I 
know  that  this  night  my  good  and  evil  genius  are  struggling 
over  my  future — that  misfortune  and  shame  have  already 
perhaps  stretched  their  wings  over  my  head;  but  I  will  not 
yield  to  them  without  a  struggle.  It  may  be  that  one  day 
]  shall  require  your  aid.     Remain,  therefore." 

Pollnitz  bowed  silently.  The  princess  fixed  her  glance 
upon  her  lover,  who,  with  a  clouded  brow  and  sad  mien,  stood 
near.  She  understood  him,  and  a  smile  played  upon  her  full, 
red  lip. 

"Remain,  Von  Pollnitz,  but  allow  us  to  step  for  a  mo- 
ment upon  the  balcony.  It  is  a  wondrous  night.  What  we 
tvo  have  to  say  to  each  other,  only  heaven,  with  its  shining 
stnrs,  dare  hear;  I  believe  they  only  can  understand  our 
sj  c'fech," 

"  I  thank  you !  oh,  I  thank  you !  "  whispered  Trenck, 
pressing  the  hand  of  Amelia  to  his  lips. 

*'Your  royal  highness,  then,  graciously  allowed  me  to 
CO  mo  here,"  said  Pollnitz,  with  a  complaining  voice,  "  in 
order  to  give  me  up  entirely  to  my  own  thoughts,  and  force 
me  to  play  the  part  of  a  Trappist.  I  shall,  if  I  understand 
rightly  my  privileges,  like  the  lion  in  the  fairy  tale,  guard 
the  door  of  that  paradise  in  which  my  young  friend  revels 
in  his  first  sunny  dream  of  bliss.  Your  royal  highness  must 
confess  that  this  is  cruel  work;  but  I  am  ready  to  undertake 


FREDEEICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     149 

it,  and  place  myself,  like  the  angel  with  the  flaming  sword, 
before  the  door,  ready  to  slay  any  serpent  who  dares  under- 
take to  enter  this  elysium." 

The  princess  pointed  to  a  table  upon  which  game,  fruit, 
and  Spanish  wine  had  been  placed.  "You  will  find  there 
distraction  and  perhaps  consolation,  and  I  hope  you  will  avail 
yourself  of  it.  Farewell,  baron;  we  place  ourselves  imder 
your  protection;  guard  us  well."  She  opened  the  door  and 
stepped  with  her  lover  upon  the  balcony. 

Pollnitz  looked  after  them  contemptuously.  "  Poor 
child!  she  is  afraid  of  herself;  she  requires  a  duenna,  and 
that  she  should  have  chosen  exactly  me  for  that  purpose  was 
a  wonderful  idea.  Alas!  my  case  is  indeed  pitifid;  I  am 
selected  to  play  the  part  of  a  duenna.  No  one  remembers 
that  I  have  ears  to  hear  and  teeth  to  bite.  I  am  supposed  to 
see,  nothing  more.  But  what  bhall  I  see,  what  can  I  see  in 
this  dark  night,  which  the  god  of  love  has  so  clouded  over 
in  compassion  to  this  innocent  and  tender  pair  of  doves? 
This  was  a  rich,  a  truly  romantic  and  girlish  idea  to  grant 
her  lover  a  rendezvous,  it  is  true,  under  God's  free  heaven, 
but  upon  a  balcony  of  three  feet  in  length,  with  no  seat  to 
repose  upon  after  the  powerful  emotions  of  a  burning 
declaration  of  love.  Well,  for  my  part  I  find  it  more  com- 
fortable to  rest  upon  this  divan  and  enjoy  my  evening  meal, 
while  these  two  dreamers  commune  with  the  night-birds  and 
the  stars." 

He  threw  himself  upon  the  seat,  seized  his  knife  and 
fork,  and  indulged  himself  in  the  grouse  and  truffles  which 
had  been  prepared  for  him. 


CHAPTER   Vn. 

ON  THE  BALCONY. 

Without,  upon  the  balcony,  stood  the  two  lovers.  "Wltl. 
their  arms  clasped  around  each  other,  they  gazed  up  at  the 
dark  heavens — too  deeply  jnove^  for  utterance.    They  gpoko 


150  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCl ;  OR, 

to  each  other  in  the  exalted  language  of  lovers  (under- 
stood only  by  the  angels),  whose  words  are  blushes,  sighs, 
glances,  and  tender  pressures  of  the  hand. 

In  the  beginning  this  was  their  only  language.  Both 
shrant  from  interrupting  this  sweet  communion  of  souls  by 
earthly  material  speech.  Suddenly  their  glances  fell  from 
heaven  earthward.  They  sought  another  heaven,  and  other 
'and  dearer  stars.  Their  eyes,  accustomed  to  the  darkness, 
met;  their  blushes  and  their  happy  smiles,  though  not  seen, 
were  understood  and  felt,  and  at  the  same  moment  they  soft- 
ly called  each  others  names. 

This  was  their  first  language,  soon  succeeded  by  passion- 
ate and  glowing  protestations  on  his  part ;  by  blushing,  trem- 
bling confessions  on  hers.  They  spoke  and  looked  like  all 
the  millions  of  lovers  who  have  foimd  themselves  alone  in 
this  old  world  of  ours.     The  same  old  story,  yet  ever  new. 

The  conduct,  hopes,  and  fears  of  these  young  lovers  coidd 
not  be  judged  by  common  rules.  Theirs  was  a  love  which 
could  not  hope  for  happiness  or  continuance;  for  which 
there  was  no  perfumed  oasis,  no  blooming  myrtle-wreath  to 
crown  its  dark  and  stormy  path.  They  might  be  sure  that 
the  farther  they  advanced,  the  more  trackless  and  arid  would 
be  the  desert  opening  before  them.  Tears  and  robes  of 
mourning  would  constitute  their  festal  adorning. 

"Why  has  Destiny  placed  you  so  high  above  me  that  I 
cannot  hope  to  reach  you  ?  can  never  climb  the  ladder  which 
leads  to  heaven  and  to  happiness  ? "  said  Trenck,  as  he  knelt 
before  the  princess. 

She  played  thoughtfully  with  his  long  dark  hair,  and  a 
burning  tear  rolled  slowly  over  her  cheek  and  fell  upon  his 
brow.     That  was  her  only  answer. 

Trenck  shuddered.  He  dashed  the  tear  from  his  face 
with  trembling  horror.  "  Oh,  Amelia !  you  weep ;  you  have 
no  word  of  consolation,  of  encouragement,  of  hope  for  me  ?  " 

"  No  word,  my  friend ;  I  have  no  hope,  no  consolation. 
I  know  that  a  dark  and  stormy  future  awaits  us.  I  know 
that  this  cloudy  night,  under  whose  shadow  we  for  the  first 
time  join  our  hands  will  endure  forever;  that  for  us  tlie 
sun  will  never  shine.  I  know  that  the  moment  our  glances 
first  met,  my  protecting  angel  veiled  her  face  and,  weeping. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    151 

left  me.  1  know  that  it  would  have  been  wiser  and  better 
to  give  your  heart,  with  its  treasures,  to  a  poor  beggar-girl 
on.  the  street,  than  to  consecrate  it  to  the  sister  of  a  king — 
to  the  poor  Princess  Amelia." 

"  Stop,  stop !  "  cried  Trenck,  still  on  his  knees,  and  bow- 
ing his  head  almost  to  the  earth.  "  Your  words  pierce  my 
heart  like  poisoned  daggers,  and  j-et  I  feel  that  they  are 
truth  itself.  Yes,  I  was  indeed  a  bold  traitor,  in  that  I 
dared  to  raise  my  eyes  to  you ;  I  was  a  blasphemer,  in  that  I, 
the  unconsecrated,  forced  myself  into  the  holy  temple  of 
your  heart;  upon  its  altar  the  vestal  flame  of  your  pure  and 
iimocent  thoughts  burned  clearly,  \mtil  my  hot  and  stormy 
sighs  brought  unrest  and  wild  disorder.  But  I  repent. 
There  is  yet  time.  You  are  bound  to  me  by  no  vow,  no 
solemn  oath.  Oh,  Amelia!  lay  this  scarcely-opened  flower 
of  our  first  young  love  by  the  withered  violet-wreaths  of 
your  childhood,  with  which  even'  now  you  sometimes  play 
and  smile  upon  in  quiet  and  peaceful  hours;  to  which  you 
whisper :  *  You  were  once  beautiful  and  fragrant ;  you  made 
me  happy — but  that  is  past.'  Oh,  Amelia !  yet  is  there  time ; 
give  me  up;  spurn  me  from  you.  Call  your  servants  and 
point  me  out  to  them  as  a  madman,  who  has  dared  to  glide 
into  your  room;  whose  passion  has  made  him  blind  and  wild. 
Give  me  over  to  justice  and  to  the  scaffold.  Only  save  your- 
self from  my  love,  which  is  so  cowardly,  so  egotistic,  so  hard- 
hearted; it  has  no  strength  in  itself  to  choose  banishment  or 
death.  Oh,  Amelia!  cast  me  away  from  your  presence; 
trample  me  under  your  feet.  I  will  die  without  one  re- 
proach, without  one  complaint.  I  will  think  that  my  death 
was  necessary  to  save  you  from  shame,  from  the  torture  of 
a  long  and  dreary  existence.  All  this  is  still  in  your  power. 
I  have  no  claim  upon  you;  you  are  not  mine;  you  have  lis- 
tened to  my  oaths,  but  you  have  not  replied  to  them ;  you  are 
free.     Spurn  me,  then,  you  are  bound  by  no  vow." 

Amelia  raised  her  arm  slowly  and  solenmly  toward 
heaven.  "  I  love  you !  May  God  hear  me  and  accept  my 
oath!  I  love  you,  and  I  swear  to  be  yours;  to  be  true  and 
faithful ;  never  to  wed  any  other  man ! " 

"  Oh,  most  tmhappy  woman  1  oh,  greatly  to  be  pitied !  " 
cried  Trenck.    Throwing  his  arms  around  her  neck  he  laid 


152  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

his  head  upon  her  bosom.  "  Amelia,  Amelia !  these  are  not 
tears  of  rapture,  of  bliss.  I  weep  from  wretchedness,  from 
anguish,  for  your  dear  sake.  Ah,  no !  I  will  not  accept  your 
oath.  I  have  not  heard  your  words — those  heavenly  words 
which  would  have  filled  my  heart  with  light  and  gladness, 
had  they  not  contained  your  fatal  condemnation.  Oh,  my 
beloved!  you  swear  that  you  love  me?  That  is,  to  sacrifice 
all  the  high  privileges  of  your  rank ;  the  power  and  splendor 
which  would  surround  a  husband  of  equal  birth — a  throne, 
a  royal  crown.  Beware !  when  I  once  accept  your  love,  then 
you  are  mine ;  then  I  will  never  release  you ;  not  to  the  king 
— not  even  to  God.  You  will  be  mine  through  all  time  and 
all  eternity;  nothing  shall  tear  you  from  my  arms,  not 
even  your  own  wish,  your  own  prayers.  Oh,  Amelia!  do 
ypu  see  that  I  am  a  madman,  insane  from  rapture  and  de- 
spair! Should  you  not  flee  from  a  maniac?  Perhaps  his 
arm,  imbued  with  giant  strength,  seeking  to  hold  you  ever 
to  his  heart,  might  crush  you.  Fly,  then;  spurn  me  from 
you ;  go  to  your  room ;  go,  and  say  to  this  mocking  courtier, 
to  whom  nothing  is  holy,  not  even  our  love,  who  is  surprised, 
at  nothing — go  and  say  to  him :  *  Trenck  was  a  madman ; 
I  summoned  him  for  pity;  I  hoped  by  mildness  and  forbear- 
ance to  heal  him.  I  have  succeeded;  he  is  gone.  Go,  now, 
and  watch  over  your  friend.'  I  will  not  contradict  your 
words;  so  soon  as  you  cross  the  threshold  of  the  door,  I  will 
spring  from  the  balcony.  I  will  be  careful;  I  will  not  stum- 
ble; I  will  not  dash  my  head  against  the  stones;  I  will  not 
be  found  dead  under  your  window;  no  trace  of  blood  shall 
mark  my  desperate  path.  My  wounds  are  fatal,  but  they 
shall  bleed  inwardly;  only  upon  the  battle-field  will  I  lie 
down  to  die.  Amid  the  roar  of  cannon  I  shall  not  be  heard; 
I  dare  call  your  name  with  the  last  sigh  which  bursts  from 
my  icy  lips ;  my  last  words  of  love  will  mingle  with  the  con- 
vulsive groans  of  the  dying.  Flee,  then!  flee  from  wretch- 
edness and  despair.  May  God  bless  you  and  make  you 
happy ! " 

Trenck  drew  aside  reverentially,  that  she  might  pass  him ; 
but  she  moved  not — her  eyes  were  misty  with  tears,  tears  of 
love,  of  heavenly  peace.  Amelia  laid  her  soft  hand  upon 
his  shoulder.    Her  eyes,  which  were  fixed  upon  his  face. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    153 

had  a  wondrous  glow.  Love  and  high  resolve  were  written 
there.  "  Two  of  the  brightest  stars  in  yonder  heavens  did 
wander  in  our  sphere."  Trenck  looked  upon  her,  and  saw 
and  felt  that  we  are  indeed  made  in  the  image  of  God. 

"I  seek  no  safety  in  flight.  I  remain  by  your  side;  I 
love  you,  I  love  you!  This  is  no  trembling,  sighing,  blush- 
ing, sentimental  love  of  a  young  maiden.  I  ofier  you  the 
love  of  a  bold,  proud  woman,  who  looks  shame  i»nd  death  in 
the  face.  In  the  fire  of  my  anguish,  my  love  has  become 
purified  and  hardened;  in  this  flame  it  has  forgotten  its 
girlish  blushes,  and  is  unbending  and  unconquerable.  I 
have  baptized  it  with  my  tears ;  I  have  taken  it  to  my  heart, 
as  a  mother  takes  her  new-born  child  whose  existence  is  her 
condemnation,  her  dishonor,  her  shame;  whom  she  loves 
boundlessly,  and  blesses  even  while  weeping  over  it!  I  also 
weep,  and  I  feel  that  condemnation  and  shame  are  my  por- 
tion. I  also  bless  my  love;  I  think  myself  happy  and  en- 
viable. God  has  blessed  me;  He  has  sent  one  pure,  burn- 
ing ray  of  His  celestial  existence  into  my  heart,  and  taught 
me  how  to  love  unchangeably,  immortally." 

"  Oh,  Amelia,  why  cannot  I  die  now  ?  "  cried  Trenck,  fall- 
ing powerless  at  her  feet. 

She  stooped  and  raised  him  up  with  a  strong  hand. 
"  Rise,"  she  said ;  "  we  must  stand  erect,  side  by  side,  firm 
and  cool.  When  you  kneel  before  me,  I  fear  that  you  see 
in  me  a  princess,  the  sister  of  a  king.  I  am  simply  your  be- 
loved, the  woman  who  adores  you.  Look  you,  Trenck,  I 
do  not  say  *  the  young  girl ; '  in  my  interior  life  I  am  no 
longer  that.  This  fearful  battle  with  myself  has  made  me 
old  and  cautious.  A  young  girl  is  trembling  and  cowardly. 
I.  am  firm  and  brave;  a  young  girl  blushes  when  she  con- 
fesses her  lov* ;  I  do  not  confess,  I  declare  and  glory  in  my 
passion.  A  young  girl  shudders  when  she  thinks  of  dishonor 
and  misery,  of  the  power  and  rage  and  menaces  of  her  fam- 
ily ;  when  with  prophetic  eye  she  sees  a  herald  clad  in  mourn- 
ing announcing  her  dark  fate.  I  shudder  not.  I  am  no 
weak  maiden;  I  am  a  woman  who  loves  without  limit,  un- 
changeably, eternally." 

She  threw  her  arms  around  him,  and  a  long  and  blessed 
pause  ensued.     Lightly  whispered  the  wind  in  the  tops  of  the 


154  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

lofty  poplars  and  oaks  of  the  garden;  unnumbered  stars 
came  out  in  their  soft  splendor  and  looked  down  upon  this 
slumbering  world.  Many  slept,  forgetful  alike  of  their  joys 
and  their  griefs;  some,  rejoicing  in  unhoped-for  happiness, 
looked  up  with  grateful  and  loving  hearts ;  others,  with  con- 
vulsive wringings  of  the  hands  and  wild  cries  of  anguish, 
called  upon  Heaven  for  aid.  What  know  the  stars  of  this? 
they  flash  and  glimmer  alike  upon  the  happy  and  the  de- 
spairing. The  earth  and  sky  have  no  tears,  no  sympathy  for 
earthly  passions.  Amelia  released  herself  from  the  arms 
of  her  lover  and  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the  heavens.  Suddenly 
a  star  fell,  marking  its  downward  and  rapid  flight  with  a  line 
of  silver;  in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  it  was 
extinguished. 

"  An  evil  omen ! "  cried  she,  pointing  upward.  With  a 
mysterious  sympathy,  Trenck  had  looked  up  at  the  same  mo- 
ment. 

"  The  heavens  will  not  deceive  us,  Amelia ;  they  warn  us, 
but  this  warning  comes  too  late.  You  are  mine,  you  have 
sworn  that  you  love  me;  I  have  accepted  your  vows.  May 
God  also  have  heard  them,  and  may  He  be  gracious  to  us! 
Is  it  not  M'ritten  that  Faith  can  remove  mountains  ?  that  she 
is  more  powerful  than  the  mightiest  kings  of  the  earth; 
stronger  than  death — that  conquerors  and  heroes  fall  before 
her?  Let  us,  then,  have  faith  in  our  love;  let  us  be  strong 
in  hope,  in  patience,  in  constancy." 

"  My  brother  says  we  shall  soon  have  war.  Will  you  not 
win  a  wreath  of  laurel  upon  the  battle-field?  who  can  know 
but  the  king  may  value  it  as  highly,  may  consider  it  as 
glorious,  as  a  princely  crown  ?  All  my  sisters  are  married  to 
princes ;  perhaps  my  royal  brother  may  pardon  me  for  loving 
(1  hero  whose  brow  is  bound  by  a  laurel-wreath  alone." 

"  Swear  to  me,  Amelia,  to  wait — to  be  patient,  to  give  me 
time  to  reach  this  goal,  which  you  paint  in  such  heavenly 
colors." 

«I  swear!"    . 

"  You  will  never  be  the  wife  of  another  ?  " 

"  I  will  never  be  the  wife  of  another." 

"Be  it  prince  or  king;  even  if  your  brother  com- 
mands it?" 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    155 

"  Be  it  prince  or  king ;  even  if  my  brother  commands  it, 
I  will  never  obey  liim." 

"  God,  my  God !  you  have  heard  our  vows."  While  speak- 
ing, he  took  Amelia's  head  in  his  hands  softly  and  bowed  it 
down  as  if  it  were  a  holy  sacrifice  which  he  oJ0Eered  up  to 
Heaven.  "  You  have  heard  her  oath :  O  God,  punish  her, 
crush  her  in  your  wrath,  if  she  prove  false !  " 

"  I  will  be  faithful  to  the  end.  May  God  punish  me  if  I 
fail!" 

"  And  now,  beloved,  you  are  mine  eternally.  Let  me 
press  our  betrothal  kiss  upon  your  sweet  lips;  you  are  my 
bride,  my  wife.  Tremble  not  now,  turn  not  away  from  my 
arms;  you  have  no  other  refuge,  no  other  strong  fortress 
than  my  heart,  but  it  is  a  rock  on  which  you  can  safely  build; 
its  foundation  is  strong,  it  can  hold  and  sustain  you.  If 
the  storm  is  too  fierce,  we  can  plunge  together  into  the 
wild,  raging  sea,  and  be  buried  in  the  deep.  Oh,  my  bride, 
let  me  kiss  your  lips;  you  are  sanctified  and  holy  in  my 
eyes  till  the  glorious  day  in  which  life  or  death  shall  unite 
us." 

"  No,  you  shall  not  kiss  me ;  I  embrace  you,  my  beloved," 
and  she  pressed  her  soft  full  lips,  which  no  untruthful,  im- 
modest word  had  ever  desecrated,  to  his.  It  was  a  kiss  holy, 
innocent,  and  pure  as  a  maiden's  prayer.  "  And  now,  my  be- 
loved, farewell,"  said  Amelia,  after  a  long  pause,  in  which 
their  lips  had  been  silent,  but  their  hearts  had  spoken  to 
each  other  and  to  God.  "  Go,"  she  said ;  "  night  melts  into 
morn,  the  day  breaks !  " 

"  My  day  declines,  my  night  comes  on  apace,"  sighed 
Trenck.     "  When  do  we  meet  again  ?  " 

Amelia  looked  up,  smilingly,  to  the  heavens.  "  Ask  the 
stars  and  the  calendar  when  the  heavens  are  dark,  and  the 
moon  hides  her  fair  face;  then  I  expect  you — the  window 
will  be  open  and  the  door  unbarred." 

"  The  moon  has  ever  been  thought  to  be  the  friend  of 
lovers,"  said  Trenck,  pressing  the  hand  of  the  princess  to  his 
heart ;  "  but  I  hate  her  with  a  perfect  hatred,  she  robs  me  of 
my  happiness." 

"  And  now,  let  us  return  to  Baron  Pollnitz,  who  is,  with- 
out doubt,  impatient." 


156  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

"  Why  must  he  always  accompany  me,  Amelia  ?  why  will 
you  not  allow  me  to  come  alone  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  I  scarcely  know  myself.  It  seems  to  me  we  are 
safer  when  watched  over  by  the  eye  of  a  friend;  perhaps  I 
am  unduly  anxious;  a  warning  voice  whispers  me  that  it  is 
better  so.  Pollnitz  has  become  the  confidant  of  our  love, 
let  us  trust  him  fully;  let  him  know  that,  though  traitors 
and  meriting  punishment  in  the  sight  of  men,  we  are  not 
guilty  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  have  no  cause  to  blush  or 
look  down.     Pollnitz  must  always  accompany  you." 

"  Ah,  Amelia !  "  sighed  Trenck ;  "  you  have  not  forgotten 
that  you  are  a  princess.  Love  has  not  wholly  conquered 
you.  You  command.  It  is  not  so  with  me.  I  submit,  I 
obey,  and  I  am  silent.  Be  it  as  you  will:  Pollnitz  shall  al- 
ways accompany  me — only  promise  me  to  come  ever  upon  the 
balcony." 

"  I  promise !  and  now,  beloved,  let  us  say  farewell  to  God, 
to  the  heavens,  to  the  soft  stars,  and  the  dark  night,  which 
has  spread  her  mantle  over  us  and  allowed  us  to  be  happy." 

"  Farewell,  farewell,  my  happiness,  my  love,  my  pride, 
my  hope,  my  future !  Oh,  Amelia,  why  cannot  I  go  this 
moment  into  battle,  and  pluck  high  honors  which  will  make 
me  more  worthy  of  you  ?  " 

They  embraced  for  the  last  time,  and  then  stepped  into 
the  room.  Pollnitz  still  sat  on  the  divan  before  the  table. 
Only  a  poor  remnant  of  the  feast  remained ;  his  tongue  had 
been  forced  to  silence  in  this  lonely  room,  but  he  had  been 
agreeably  occupied  with  the  game,  fruits,  jellies,  and  wine 
which  were  placed  before  him;  he  had  stretched  himself 
comfortably  upon  the  sofa,  and  was  quietly  enjoying  the 
blessed  feeling  of  a  healthy  and  undisturbed  digestion.  At 
last  he  had  fallen  asleep,  or  seemed  so;  it  was  some  mo- 
ments before  Trenck  succeeded  in  forcing  him  to  open  his 
eyes. 

"You  are  very  cruel,  young  friend,"  said  he,  rising  up; 
"you  have  disturbed  me  in  the  midst  of  a  wondrous  and 
rapturous  dream." 

"  Might  I  inquire  into  this  dream  ? "  said  the  princess. 

"Ah,  your  royal  highness,  I  dreamed  of  the  only  thing 
which  would  ever  surprise  or  enrapture  me  in  this  comical 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS,    lot 

and  good-for-nothing  world.  I  dreamed  I  had  no  creditors, 
and  heaps  of  gold." 

"  And  your  dream  differs  widely  from  the  reality  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  gracious  princess,  just  the  opposite  is  true.  I 
have  imntunbered  creditors,  and  no  gold." 

"  Poor  PoUnitz !  how  do  you  propose  to  free  yourself  from 
this  painful  embarrassment  ?  " 

"Ah,  your  royal  highness,  I  shall  never  attempt  it!  I 
am  more  than  content  when  I  can  find  some  soothing  pallia- 
tives for  this  chronic  disease,  and,  at  least,  find  as  many 
louis  d'ors  in  my  pocket  as  I  have  creditors  to  threaten  me." 

"  And  is  that  now  your  happy  state  ?  " 

"  No,  princess,  I  have  only  twelve  louis  d'ors." 

"  And  how  many  creditors  ?  " 

"  Two-and-thirty." 

"  So  twenty  louis  d'ors  are  wanting  to  satisfy  your  long- 


ing 


?" 


"  Yes,  unhappily," 

The  princess  walked  to  her  table  and  took  from  it  a  little 
roll  of  gold,  which  she  handed  to  the  master  of  ceremonies. 
"  Take  it,"  said  she,  smiling ;  "  yesterday  I  received  my  pin- 
money  for  the  month,  and  I  rejoice  that  I  am  in  a  condition 
to  balance  your  creditors  and  your  louis  d'ors  at  this  time." 

Pollnitz  took  the  gold  without  a  blush,  and  kissed  the 
hand  of  the  princess  gallantly.  "  Ah !  I  have  but  one  cause 
of  repentance,"  sighed  he. 

"Well,  what  is  that?" 

"  That  I  did  not  greatly  increase  the  number  of  my  cred- 
itors. My  God!  who  could  have  guessed  the  magnanimous 
intentions  of  my  royal  princess  ? " 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  FIRST  CLOUD. 

Drunk    with  happiness,  revelling  in  the  recollection  of 
this   first   interview  with  his   lovely   and   exalted   mistress. 


158  BEBLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

Frederick  von  Trenck  rode  slowly  through  the  lonely  high- 
ways toward  Potsdam.  It  was  not  necessary  for  him  to  pay 
any  attention  to  the  road,  as  his  horse  knew  every  foot  of 
the  way.  Trenck  laid  his  bridle  carelessly  upon  the  neck  of 
the  noble  animal,  and  gave  himself  up  entirely  to  meditation. 
Suddenly  night  waned,  the  vajjors  melted,  light  appeared  in 
the  east,  and  the  first  purple  glow  was  succeeded  by  a  clear, 
soft  blue.  The  larks  sang  out  their  joyous  morning  song 
in  the  heavens,  not  yet  disturbed  by  the  noise  and  dust  of 
the  day. 

Trenck  heard  not  the  song  of  the  lark,  he  saw  not  the 
rising  sun,  which,  with  his  golden  rays,  illuminated  the 
landscape,  and  changed  the  dew-drops  in  the  eups  of  the 
flowers  into  shimmering  diamonds  and  rubies;  he  was 
dreaming,  dreaming.  The  sweet  and  wondrous  happiness 
of  the  last  few  hours  intoxicated  his  soul ;  he  recalled  every 
word,  every  smile,  evei-j'  pressure  of  the  hand  of  his  beloved, 
and  a  crimson  blush  suffused  his  cheek,  a  sweet  tremor  op- 
pressed his  heart,  as  he  remembered  that  she  had  been 
clasped  in  his  arms;  that  he  had  kissed  the  pure,  soft,  girl- 
ish lips,  whose  breath  was  fresher  and  more  odorous  than 
the  glorious  morning  air  jvhich  fanned  his  cheeks  and  played 
with  his  long  dark  hair.  With  a  radiant  smile  and  proudly 
erected  head,  he  recalled  the  promise  of  the  princess.  She 
had  given  him  reason  to  hope ;  she  believed  in  the  possibility 
of  their  union. 

And  why,  indeed,  might  not  this  be  possible?  Had  not 
his  career  in  the  last  few  months  been  so  brilliant  as  to  excite 
the  envy  of  his  comrades?  was  he  not  recognized  as  the 
special  favorite  of  the  king?  Scarcely  six  months  had 
passed  since  he  arrived  in  Berlin;  a  young,  poor,  and  un- 
kno\vn  student,  he  was  commended  to  the  king  by  his  pro- 
tector, the  Count  von  Lottum,  who  earnestly  petitioned  his 
majesty  to  receive  him  into  his  life-guard.  The  king, 
charmed  by  his  handsome  and  martial  figure,  by  his  culti- 
vated intellect  and  wonderful  memory,  had  made  him  cornet 
in  his  cavalry  guard,  and  a  few  weeks  later  he  was  promoted 
to  a  lieutenancy.  Though  but  eighteen  years  of  age,  he  had 
the  distinguished  honor  to  be  chosen  by  the  king  to  exercise 
two  regiments  of  Silesian  cavalry,  and  Frederick  himself  had 


MEDERICK  the  great  and  his  friends.    169 

expressed  his  content,  not  only  in  gracious  but  affectionate 
words.*  It  is  well  known  that  the  smile  of  a  prince  is  like 
the  golden  rays  of  the  sun :  it  lends  light  and  glory  to  every 
object  upon  which  it  rests,  and  attracts  the  curious  gaze  of 
men. 

The  handsome  young  lieutenant,  basking  in  the  rays  of 
foyal  favor,  was  naturally  an  object  of  remark  and  the  most 
distinguished  attentions  to  the  circle  of  the  court.  More 
than  once  the  king  had  been  seen  to  lay  his  arm  confidingly 
upon  the  shoulder  of  Trenck,  and  converse  with  him  long 
and  smilingly;  more  than  once  had  the  proud  and  almost 
unapproachable  queen-mother  accorded  the  j'oung  officer  a 
gracious  salutation;  more  than  once  had  the  princesses  at 
the  fetes  of  the  last  winter  selected  him  as.  their  partner, 
and  all  those  young  and  lovely  girls  of  the  court  declared 
that  there  was  no  better  dancer,  no  more  attentive  cavalier, 
no  more  agreeable  companion  than  Frederick  von  Trenck 
— than  this  youthful,  witty,  merry  officer,  who  surpassed 
all  his  comrades,  not  only  in  his  height  and  the  splendor 
of  his  form,  but  in  talent  and  amiability.  It  was  there- 
fore to  be  expected  that  this  proud  aristocracy  would  seek 
to  draw  the  favorite  of  the  king  and  of  the  ladies  into  their 
circle. 

Frederick  von  Trenck  was  of  too  sound  and  healthy  a 
Qature,  he  had  too  much  strength  of  character,  to  bo  made 
vain  or  supercilious  by  these  attentions.  He-  soon,  however, 
accustomed  himself  to  them  as  his  right ;  and  he  was  scarce- 
ly surprised  when  the  king,  aftei;  his  promotion,  sent  him  two 
splendid  horses  from  his  own  stable,  and  a  thousand  thalers,  t 
at  that  time  a  considerable  sum  of  money. 

This  general  adulation  inspired  naturally  bold  wishes  and 
ambitious  dreams,  and  led  him  to  \o6k  upon  the  impossible 
and  unheard  of  as  possible  and  attainable.  Frederick  von 
Trenck  was  not  vain  or  imperious,  but  he  was  proud  and 
ambitious ;  he  had  a  great  object  in  view,  and  all  his  powers 
were  consecrated  to  that  end;  in  his  hopeful,  sunny  hours, 
he  did  not  doubt  of  success ;  he  was  ever  diligent,  ever  watch- 

*  "  M^moires  de  Frederic  Baron  von  Trenck,"  traduits  par  lui-m6me  sur 
roriginal  allemande. 
+  Tbid. 


180  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

ful,  ever  ready  to  embrace  an  opportunity;  ever  expecting 
some  giant  work,  which  would,  in  its  fruition,  bring  him 
riches  and  honor,  fame  and  greatness.  He  felt  that  he  had 
strength  to  win  a  world  and  lay  it  bound  at  his  feet;  and  if 
the  king  had  commanded  him  to  undertake  the  twelve  labors 
of  Hercules,  he  would  not  have  shrunk  from  the  ordeal. 
Convinced  that  a  glorious  future  awaited  him,  he  prepared 
himself  for  it.  No  hour  found  him  idle.  When  his  com- 
rades, wearied  by  the  fatiguing  service  and  the  oft-repeated 
exercises  and  preparations  for  war,  retired  to  rest,  Trenck 
was  earnestly  engaged  in  some  grave  study,  some  scientific 
work,  seated  at  his  writing-table  surrounded  with  books, 
maps,  and  drawings. 

The  young  lieutenant  was  preparing  himself  to  be  a 
general,  or  a  conquering  hero,  by  his  talents  and  his  great 
deeds;  to  subdue  the  world  and  its  prejudices;  to  bridge 
over  with  laurels  and  trophies  the  gulf  which  separated  him 
from  the  princess.  Was  he  not  already  on  the  way?  Did 
not  the  future  beckon  to  him  with  glorious  promise  ?  Must 
not  he,  who  at  eighteen  years  of  age  had  attained  that  for 
which  many  not  less  endowed  had  given  their  whole  lives  in 
vain — he,  the  flattered  cavalier,  the  scholar,  and  the  officer 
of  the  king's  guard — be  set  apart,  elected  to  some  exalted 
fate? 

These  were  the  thoughts  which  occupied  the  young  man, 
and  which  made  him  forgetful  of  all  other  things,  even  the 
danger  with  which  the  slow  movements  of  his  horse  and  the 
ever-rising  sun  threatened  him. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  king  to  attend  the  early  morning 
parade,  and  the  commander.  Captain  Jaschinsky,  did  not  be- 
long to  Trenck's  friends;  he  envied  him  for  his  rapid  pro- 
motion ;  it  angered  him  that  Trenck  had,  at  a  bound,  reached 
that  position  to  which  he  had  wearily  crept  forward  through 
long  years  of  service.  It  would  have  made  him  happy  tc 
see  this  young  man,  who  advanced  so  proudly  and  trium- 
phantly upon  the  path  of  honor  and  distinction,  cast  down 
from  the  giddy  height  of  royal  favor,  and  trampled  in  the 
tust  of  forgetfulness.  He  watched  his  young  lieutenant 
with  the  smiling  cunning  of  a  base  soul,  resolved  to  punish 
harshly  the  smallest  neglect  of  duty. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    161 

And  now  he  had  found  his  opportunity.  A  sergeant,  who 
was  a  spy  for  the  captain,  informed  him  that  Treuck's  cor- 
poral had  told  him  his  master  had  ridden  forth  late  in  the 
night  and  had  not  yet  returned.  The  sergeant  had  watched 
the  door  of  the  house  in  which  Trenck  resided,  and  was  con- 
vinced that  he  was  still  absent.  This  intelligence  filled  the 
heart  of  Captain  Jaschinsky  with  joy;  he  concealed  it,  how- 
ever, under  the  mask  of  indifference;  he  declared  that  he 
did  not  believe  this  story  of  Trenck's  absence.  The  young 
man  knew  full  well  that  no  officer  was  allowed  to  leave  Pots- 
dam, even  for  an  hour,  without  permission,  particularly  dur- 
ing the  night. 

In  order,  as  he  said,  to  convince  the  sergeant  of  the  un- 
truth of  this  statement,  he  sent  him  with  some  trifling  com- 
mission to  Lieutenant  von  Trenck.  The  sergeant  returned 
triumphantly;  the  baron  was  not  at  home,  and  his  servant 
was  most  anxious  about  him,  The  captain  shrugged  his 
shoulders  silently.  The  clock  struck  eight;  he  seized  his 
hat,  and  hastened  to  the  parade. 

The  whole  line  was  formed;  every  officer  stood  by  his 
regiment,  except  the  lieutenant  of  the  second  company.  The 
captain  saw  this  at  a  glance,  and  a  wicked  smile  for  one  mo- 
ment played  upon  his  face.  He  rode  with  zealous  haste  to 
the  front  of  his  regiment  and  saluted  the  king,  who  de- 
scended the  steps  of  the  castle,  accompanied  by  his  generals 
and  adjutants. 

At  this  moment,  to  the  right  wing  of  the  regiment,  there 
was  a  slight  disturbance,  which  did  not  escape  the  listening 
ear  of  the  captain.  He  turned  his  head,  and  saw  that  Trenck 
had  joined  his  company,  and  that  his  horse  was  panting  and 
bathed  in  sweat.  The  captain's  brow  was  clouded;  the 
young  officer  seemed  to  have  escaped  the  threatened  danger. 
The  king  had  seen  nothing.  Trenck  was  in  his  place,  and  it 
would  be  useless  to  bri^ag  a  charge  against  him. 

The  king,  however,  had  seen  all;  his  keen  eye  had  ob- 
served Trenck's  rapid  approach,  and  his  glowing,  heated 
countenance;  and  as  he  rode  to  the  front,  he  drew  in  his 
horse  directly  before  Trenck. 

"  How  comes  it  that  your  horse  is  fatigued  and  sweating? 
I  must  suppose  he  is  fresh  from  the  stable,  and  his  master 


/ 


162  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

just  from  his  bed.  It  appears,  however,  that  he  has  been 
delayed  there ;  I  see  that  he  has  just  arrived  upon  the  parade- 
ground." 

The  officer  murmured  a  few  incomprehensible  words. 

"  Will  you  answer  me  ? "  said  the  king ;  "  is  your  horse 
just  from  the  stable — are  you  directly  from  your  bed  ?  " 

Frederick  von  Trenck's  head  had  been  bowed  humbly 
upon  his  breast,  he  now  raised  it  boldly  up;  he  was  resolved; 
his  fierce  eyes  met  those  of  the  king.  "  No,  your  majesty," 
said  he,  with  a  cool,  composed  mien,  "  my  horse  is  not  from 
the  stable — I  am  not  from  my  bed." 

There  was  a  pause,  an  anxious,  breathless  pause.  Every 
eye  was  fixed  observantly  upon  the  king,  whose  severity  in 
militarj'  discipline  was  known  and  feared. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  the  king  at  last,  "  that  I  command 
my  officers  to  be  punctual  at  parade  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sire." 

"  Do  you  know  that  it  is  positively  forbidden  to  leave 
Potsdam  without  permission?" 

"  Yes,  your  majesty." 

"  Well,  then,  since  this  was  known  to  you,  where  have  you 
been?  You  confess  that  you  do  not  come  from  your  dwell- 
ing?" 

"  Sire,  I  was  on  the  chase,  and  loitered  too  long.  I  know 
T  am  guilty  of  a  great  misdemeanor,  and  I  expect  my  pardon 
only  from  the  grace  of  my  king." 

The  king  smiled,  and  his  glance  was  mild  and  kindly. 
'*  You  expect  also,  as  it  appears,  under  any  circumstances,  a 
pardon?  Well,  this  time  you  shall  not  be  disappointed.  I 
am  well  pleased  that  you  have  been  bold  enough  to  speak  the 
truth.  I  love  truthful  people;  they  are  always  brave.  This 
time  you  shall  go  unpunished,  but  beware  of  the  second 
offence.    I  warn  you." 

Alas!  what  power  had  even  a  king's  warning  over  the 
passionate  love  of  a  youth  of  eighteen  ?  Trenck  soon  forgot 
the  danger  from  which  he  had  escaped ;  and  even  if  remem- 
bered, it  would  not  have  restrained  him. 

It  was  again  a  cloudy,  dark  night,  and  he  knew  that  the 
princess  expected  him.  As  he  stood  again  upon  the  balcony, 
guarded  by  the  watchful  master  of  ceremonies;  as  he  lis- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND   HIS  FRIENDS.     163 

teued  to  the  sweet  music  of  Amelia's  voice  and  compre- 
hended the  holy  and  precious  character  of  her  girlish  and 
tender  nature;  as  he  sat  at  her  feet,  pouring  out  the  rich 
treasures  of  his  love  and  happiness,  and  felt  her  trembling 
small  white  hand  upon  his  brow;  as  he  dreamed  with  her  of 
a  blessed  and  radiant  future,  in  which  not  only  God  and  the 
night  but  the  king  and  the  whole  world  might  know  and 
recognize  their  love — how  could  he  remember  that  the  king 
had  ordered  the  parade  at  seven  in  the  morning,  and  that 
it  was  even  now  impossible  for  him  to  reach  Potsdam  at  that 
hour? 

The  parade  was  over  when  he  reached  his  quarters.  A 
guard  stood  before  his  door,  and  led  him  instantly  before 
the  king.  Frederick  was  alone  in  his  cabinet.  He  silently 
dismissed  his  adjutant  and  the  guard,  then  walked  for  some 
time  backward  and  forward  through  the  room,  without  seem- 
ing to  observe  Trenck,  who  stood  with  pale  but  resolved 
countenance  before  the  door. 

Trenck  followed  every  movement  of  the  king  with  a 
steady  glance.  "  If  he  cashiers  me,  I  will  shoot  myself,"  he 
said  in  a  low  tone.  "  If  he  puts  me  to  the  torture,  in  order 
to  learn  the  secret  of  my  love,  I  can  bear  it  and  be  silent." 

But  there  was  another  possibility  upon  which,  in  the 
desperation  of  his  soul,  Trenck  had  not  thought.  What 
should  he  do  if  the  king  approached  him  mildly  and  sorrow- 
fuUy,  and,  with  the  gentle,  persuasive  words  of  a  kind  friend, 
besought  him  to  explain  this  mystery? 

This  was  exactly  the  course  adopted  by  the  king.  He 
stepped  forward  to  the  poor,  pale,  almost  breathless  youth, 
and  looked  him  steadily  in  the  eyes.  His  glance  was  not 
threatening  and  scornful,  as  Trenck  had  expected,  but  sad 
and  reproachful. 

"  Why  have  you  again  secretly  left  Potsdam  ? "  said  the 
king.  "  WTiere  do  you  find  the  proud  courage  to  disobey  my 
oonunands  ?  Captain  Jaschinsky  has  brought  serious  charges 
against  you.  He  tells  me  that  you  often  leave  Potsdam 
secretly.  Do  you  know  that,  if  punished  according  to  the 
law,  you  must  be  cashiered  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know,  sire.    1  also  know  that  I  will  not  outlive 
this  shame." 
11 


164  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

A  scornful  glance  shot  from  the  king's  eye.  "  Do  you 
intend  to  make  me  anxious  ?     Is  that  a  menace  ?  " 

"  Pardon,  sire.  It  is  not  in  my  power  to  make  you  anx- 
ious, and  I  do  not  dare  to  menace.  Of  what  importance  to 
your  majesty  is  this  atom,  this  unknown  and  insignificant 
youth,  who  is  only  seen  when  irradiated  by  the  sunshine  of 
your  eye?  I  am  nothing,  and  less  than  nothing,  to  your 
majesty;  you  are  every  thing  to  me.  I  will  not,  I  cannot 
live  if  your  highness  withdraws  your  favor  from  me,  and 
robs  me  of  the  possibility  of  winning  a  name  and  position  for 
myself.     That  was  my  meaning,  sire." 

"  You  are,  then,  ambitious,  and  thirst  for  fame  ?  " 

"  Your  majesty,  I  would  gladly  sell  one-half  of  my  life  to 
the  devil  if  he  would  insure  me  rank  and  glory  for  the  other 
half,  and  after  death  an  immortality  of  fame.  Oh,  how 
gladly  would  I  make  this  contract !  " 

"  If  such  ambition  fires  your  soul,  how  can  you  be  so  fool- 
ish, so  inconsiderate,  as  to  bring  degradation  and  shame  upon 
yourself  by  carelessness  in  duty?  He  who  is  not  prompt 
and  orderly  in  small  things,  will  neglect  the  most  important 
duties.     Where  were  you  last  night  ?  " 

"  Sire,  I  was  on  the  chase." 

The  king  looked  at  him  with  angry,  piercing  eyeB. 
Trenck  had  not  the  courage  to  bear  this.  He  blushed  and 
looked  down. 

"  You  have  told  me  an  untruth,"  said  the  king.  "  Think 
again.     Where  were  you  last  night  ?  " 

"  Sire,  I  was  on  the  chase." 

"You  repeat  that?" 

"  Your  majesty,  I  repeat  that." 

"  Will  you  solemnly  declare  that  this  is  true  ?  " 

Trenck  was  silent. 

"  Will  you  declare  that  this  is  true  ? "  repeated  the  king. 

The  young  officer  looked  up,  and  this  time  he  had  the 
courage  to  meet  the  flaming  eye  of  the  king.  "  No,  sire,  I 
will  not  affirm  it." 

"  You  confess,  then,  that  you  have  told  me  an  untruth  ? " 

"  Yes,  your  majesty." 

"  Do  you  know  that  that  is  a  new  and  grave  offence  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  majesty,  but  I  cannot  act  otherwise." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    165 

"  You  will  not,  then,  tell  me  the  truth  ? " 

"  I  cannot." 

"  Not  if  your  obstinacy  will  lead  to  your  being  imme- 
diately cashiered,  and  to  your  imprisonment  in  the  for- 
tress?" 

"  Not  then,  your  majesty.     I  cannot  act  differently." 

"  Trenck,  Trenck,  be  on  your  guard !  Remember  that 
you  speak  to  your  lord  and  king,  who  has  a  right  to  demand 
the  truth." 

"  Your  majesty  may  punish  me,  it  is  your  right,  and  your 
duty,  and  I  miist  bear  it,"  said  Trenck,  trembling  and 
ghastly  pale,  but  firm  and  confident  in  himself. 

The  king  moved  off  for  a  few  moments,  then  stood  again 
before  his  lieutenant.  "  You  will  report  to  your  captain, 
and  ask  for  your  discharge." 

Trenck  replied  not.  Perhaps  it  was  not  in  his  power. 
Two  great  tears  ran  slowly  down  his  cheeks,  and  he  did  not 
restrain  them.  He  wept  for  his  youth,  his  happiness,  his 
honor,  and  his  fame. 

"  Go  !  "  repeated  the  king. 

The  young  man  bowed  low.  "  I  thank  you  for  gracious 
punishment,"  he  said;  then    turned  and  opened  the  door. 

The  eyes  of  the  king  had  followed  him  with  marked  in- 
terest. "  Trenck !  "  cried  he ;  and,  as  he  turned  and  waited 
silently  upon  the  threshold  for  the  new  command,  the  king 
stepped  forward  hastily  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  am  content  with  you !  You  have  gone  astray,  but  the 
anguish  of  soul  you  have  just  now  endured  is  a  sufficient 
punishment.     I  forgive  you." 

A  wild  cry  of  joy  burst  from  the  pale  lips  of  the  youth. 
He  bowed  low  over  the  king's  hand,  and  pressed  it  with  pas- 
sionate earnestness  to  his  lips. 

"Your  majesty  gives  me  my  life  again!  I  thank  you! 
oh,  I  thank  you !  " 

The  king  smiled.  "  And  yet  your  life  must  have  but 
little  worth  for  you,  if  you  would  sign  it  away  so  readily. 
Once  more  I  have  forgiven  you,  but  I  warn  you  for  the  fu- 
ture. Be  on  your  guard,  monsieur,  or  the  lightning  will  fall 
antj  consume  you."  *  And  now  the  king's  eye  was  threaten' 
*  The  Ring's  own  words,    gee  Trenck's "  M^moiyesc'i 


166  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

ing,  and  his  voice  terrible  in  anger.  "  You  have  guarded 
your  secret,"  he  said ;  "  you  did  not  betray  it,  even  when 
threatened  with  punishment  worse  than  death.  Your  honor, 
as  a  cavalier,  demanded  that;  and  I  am  not  surprised  that 
you  hold  it  sacred.  But  there  is  yet  another  kind  of  honor, 
which  you  have  this  day  tarnished — I  mean  obedience  to 
your  king  and  general.  I  forgive  you  for  this;  and  now  I 
must  speak  to  you  as  a  friend,  and  not  as  a  king.  You  are 
wandering  in  dangerous  paths,  young  man.  Turn  now, 
while  there  is  yet  time;  turn  before  the  abyss  opens  which 
will  swallow  you  up!  Xo  man  can  serve  two  masters,  or 
strive  successfully  after  two  objects.  He  who  wills  some- 
thing, must  will  it  wholly;  must  give  his  undivided  heart 
and  strength  to  its  attainment;  must  sacrifice  every  thing 
else  to  the  one  great  aim!  You  are  striving  for  love  and 
fame  at  the  same  time,  and  you  will  forfeit  both.  Love 
makes  a  man, soft  and  yielding.  He  who  leaves  a  mistress 
behind  him  cannot  go  bravely  and  defiantly  into  battle, 
though  women  despise  men  who  are  not  gallant  and  laurel- 
crowned.  Strive  then,  Trenck,  first  to  become  a  hero;  then 
it  will  be  time  to  play  the  lover.  Pluck  your  laurels  first, 
and  then  gather  the  myrtle-wreath.  If  this  counsel  does 
not  suit  you,  then  give  up  your  ambition,  and  the  path  to 
fame  which  you  have  chosen.  Lay  aside  your  sword ;  though 
I  can  promise  you  that  soon,  and  with  honor,  you  may  hope 
to  use  it.  But  lay  it  aside,  and  take  up  the  pen  or  the  ham- 
mer; build  yourself  a  nest;  take  a  wife,  and  thank  God  for 
the  gift  of  a  child  every  twelve  months;  and  pray  that  the 
sound  of  battle  may  be  heard  only  in  the  distance,  and  the 
steps  of  soldiers  may  not  disturb  your  fields  and  gardens. 
That  is  also  a  future,  and  there  are  those  who  are  content 
with  it ;  whose  ears  are  closed  to  the  beat  of  drums  and  the 
sound  of  alarm-bells  which  now  resound  throughout  Europe. 
Choose,  then,  young  man.  Will  you  be  a  soldier,  and  with 
God's  help  a  hero  ?  or  will  you  go  again  *  upon  the  chase  ?  '  " 

<*I  will  be  a  soldier,"  cried  Trenck,  completely  carried 
away.  "  I  will  win  fame,  honor,  and  distinction  upon  the 
battle-field,  and  above  all  I  will  gain  the  approbation  and 
Consideration  of  my  king.  My  name  shall  be  known  and 
honored  by  the  world," 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    1(}7 

"  Thbt  is  a  hlighty  aiin,"  said  the  king,  smiling,  "  and  it 
requires  the  dedication  of  a  life.  You  must  offer  up  many 
things,  and  above  all  other  things  '  the  chase.'  I  do  not 
know  what  you  have  sought,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  know. 
I  counsel  you  though,  as  a  friend,  to  give  up  the  pursuit. 
I  have  placed  the  two  alternatives  before  you,  and  you  have 
made  your  choice — you  will  be  a  brave  soldier.  Now,  then, 
from  this  time  onward,  I  will  be  inexorable  against  even  ( 
your  smallest  neglect  of  duty.  In  this  way  only  can  I  make 
of  you  what  you  resolve  to  be — a  gallant  and  stainless  officer. 
I  will  tell  your  captain  to  watch  you  and  report  every  fault ; 
I  will  myself  observe  and  scrutinize  your  conduct,  and  woe 
to  you  if  I  find  you  again  walking  in  crooked  paths !  I  will 
be  stern  and  immovable.  Xow,  monsieur,  you  are  warned, 
and  cannot  complain  if  a  wild  tempest  bursts  over  your  head ; 
the  guilt  and  responsibility  will  be  yours.  Not  another 
word !     Adieu !  " 

Long  after  Trenck  had  left  the  room,  the  king  stood 
thoughtfully  looking  toward  the  door  through  which  the  tall, 
graceful  figure  of  the  young  officer  had  disappeared. 

"A  heart  of  steel,  a  hea'd  of  iron^"  said  the  king  to 
himself.  "  He  Will  be  very  happy,  or  very  wretched.  For 
such  natures  there  is  no  middle  way.  Alas!  I  fear  it  had 
been  better  for  him  if  I  had  dismissed  him,  and — "  Fred- 
erick did  not  complete  his  sentence;  he  sighed  deeply,  and 
his  brow  was  clouded.  lie  stepped  to  his  writing-table  and 
took  up  a  large  sealed  envelope,  opened  and  read  it  carefully. 
A  sad  smile  played  upon  his  lips.  "  Poor  Amelia !  "  said  he 
-^"  poor  sister !  They  have  chosen  you  to  be  assistant  Ab- 
bess of  Quedlinburg*  A  miserable  alternative  for  the  Swed- 
ish throne,  which  was  in  your  power!  Well,  I  will  sign  this 
paper."  He  took  the  pen  and  hastily  wrote  his  name  upon 
the  diploma.  "  If  she  is  resolved  never  to  marry,  she  will 
be  one  day  Abbess  of  Quedlinburg — that  is  something. 
Aurora  of  Konigsmark  was  content  with  that,  but  only  after 
she  had  reached  the  height  of  earthly  grandeur." 

Frederick  was  completely  unmanned  by  these  painful 
thoughts.  He  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  said  in  a  low 
tone :  "  Poor  human  heart  1  M'hy  has  Fate  made  you  so  soft, 
when  you  must  become  stone  ill  order  to  support  the  disap- 


168  BERLm  Aim  SANS-SOtJCl;  OR, 

pointments  and  anguish  of  life  ?  "  He  stood  bowed  down  for 
a  long  time,  in  deep  thought;  then  suddenly  rising  proudly 
erect,  he  exclaimed :  "  Away  with  such  cares !  I  have  no 
time  to  play  the  considerate  and  amiable  father  to  my 
family.  My  kingly  duty  and  service  call  me  with  trumpet 
tones." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  COUNCIL  OF  WAR. 

Frederick  stepped  from  the  room  into  the  adjoining 
saloon,  where  his  ministers  and  generals  were  assembled  for 
a  council  of  war.  His  expression  was  calm  and  clear,  and 
an  imposing  fire  and  earnestness  lighted  up  his  eyes.  He 
was  again  the  king,  and  the  conqueror,  and  his  voice  rang  out 
martially : 

"  The  days  of  comfort  and  repose  are  over ;  we  have 
reasoned  and  diplomatized  too  long;  we  must  now  move  and 
strike.  I  am  surfeited  with  this  contest  of  pen  and  ink.  I 
am  weary  of  Austrian  cunning  and  intrigue.  In  these 
weighty  and  important  matters  I  will  not  act  alone  upon  my 
own  convictions;  I  will  listen  to  your  opinions  and  receive 
your  counsel:  I  will  not  declare  war  until  you  say  that  an 
honorable  peace  is  no  longer  possible.  I  will  unsheath  the 
sword  only  when  the  honor  of  my  throne  and  of  my  people 
demands  it,  and  even  then  with  a  heavy  heart;  for  I  know 
what  burdens  and  bitter  woes  it  will  bring  upon  my  poor 
land.  Let  us  therefore  carefully  read,  weigh,  and  under- 
stand the  paper  which  lies  upon  the  table,  and  fulfil  the 
duties  which  it  lays  upon  us." 

Frederick  stepped  to  the  table  and  seated  himself.  The 
generals,  the  old  Dessauer,  Ziethen,  Winterfeld,  and  the 
king's  favorite,  Rothenberg,  with  the  ministers  and  coun- 
cillor of  state,  placed  themselves  silently  around  the  table. 
The  eyes  of  all  these  experienced  men,  accustomed  to  battle 
and  to   victory,  were   steadily  fixed  upon   the   king.    His 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT   AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     169 

youthful  countenance  alone  was  clear  and  bright;  not  a 
shadow  was  seen  upon  his  brow. 

There  was  a  pause — a  stillness  like  that  which  precedes 
a  tempest.  Every  one  felt  the  importance  of  the  moment. 
All  these  wise  and  great  men  knew  that  the  young  man  who 
stood  in  their  midst,  with  such  proud  and  calm  composure 
and  assurance,  held  in  his  hands  at  this  moment  the  fate  of 
Europe;  that  the  scales  would  fall  on  that  side  to  which  his 
sword  was  consecrated.  The  king  raised  his  head,  and  his 
eyes  wandered  searchingly  from  one  to  the  other  of  the 
earnest  faces  which  surrounded  him. 

"  You  know,  messieurs,"  said  Frederick,  "  that  Maria 
Theresa,  who  calls  herself  Empress  of  Germany  and  of  Rome, 
still  makes  war  against  our  ally  Charles  the  Seventh.  Her 
general,  Karl  von  Lothringen,  has  triumphed  over  the  Bava- 
rian and  French  army  at  Sempach ;  and  Bavaria,  left,  by  the 
flight  of  the  emperor,  without  a  leader,  has  been  compelled 
to  submit  to  Maria  Theresa,  Queen  of  Hungary.  She  has 
allied  herself  with  England,  Hanover,  and  Saxony.  And 
these  allied  powers  have  been  victorious  over  the  army  of 
our  ally.  King  Louis  of  France,  commanded  by  Marshal 
Noailles.  These  successes  have  made  our  enemies  imperious. 
They  have  demanded  much ;  they  have  resolved  to  obtain  all. 
Apparently  they  are  the  most  powerful.  Holland  has 
offered  money  and  ships;  Sardinia  and  Saxony  have  just 
signed  the  treaty  made  at  Worms  by  England,  Austria,  and 
Holland.  So  they  have  troops,  gold,  and  powerful  allies. 
We  have  nothing  but  our  honor,  our  swords,  and  our  good 
cause.  We  are  the  allies  of  a  land  poor  in  itself,  and,  what 
is  still  worse,  governed  by  a  weak  and  faint-hearted  emperor ; 
and  of  France,  whose  king  is  the  plaything  of  courtiers  and 
mistresses.  Our  adversaries  know  their  strength,  and  are 
acquainted  with  our  weakness.  Look,  messieurs,  at  this  let- 
ter of  George  of  England  to  our  godmother^  Maria  Theresa 
of  Hungary;  an  accident  placed  it  in  our  hands,  or,  if  you 
will,  a  Providence,  which,  without  doubt,  watches  over  the 
prosperity  of  Prussia.     Read  it,  messieurs." 

He  handed  General  Rothenberg  a  paper,  which  he  read 
with  frowning  brow  and  scarcely  suppressed  scorn,  and  then 
passed  it  on  to  Winterfeld.     The  king  studied  the  face  of 


170  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OE, 

every  reader,  and,  the  more  dark  and  stormy  it  appeared,  the 
more  gay  and  happy  was  the  expression  of  his  countenance. 

He  received  the  letter  again  with  a  friendly  smile  from 
the  hands  of  his  minister,  and  pointing  to  it  with  his  finger, 
he  said :  "  Have  you  well  considered  these  lines  where  the 
king  says,  *  Madame,  what  is  good  to  take,  is  also  good  to 
return'?  What  think  you  of  these  words.  Prince  von  An- 
halt?" 

"  I  think,"  said  the  silver-haired  old  warrior,  "  that  we 
will  prove  to  the  English  king  what  Frederick  of  Prussia 
once  holds  cannot  be  rescued  from  him." 

"You  think,  then,  that  our  hands  are  strong  enough  to 
hold  our  possessions  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  majesty." 

"  And  you,  gentlemen  ?  " 

"  We  share  the  opinion  of  the  prince." 

"  You  have  expressed  precisely  my  owai  views,"  cried 
Frederick,  with  delight.  "  If  this  is  your  conclusion,  mes- 
sieurs, I  rejoice  to  lay  before  you  another  document.  It  was 
above  all  other  things  the  desire  of  my  heart,  as  long  as  it 
was  possible,  to  preserve  the  peace  of  Germany.  I  have 
sacrificed  my  personal  inclination  and  my  ambition  to  this 
aim.  I  have  united  the  German  princes  for  the  protection 
of  Charles  the  Seventh.  The  Frankfort  union  should  be  a 
lever  to  restore  freedom  to  Germany,  dignity  to  the  emperor, 
and  peace  to  Europe.  But  no  success  has  cro\vned  this 
imion ;  discord  prevails  amongst  them.  A  part  of  our  allies 
have  left  us,  under  the  pretext  that  France  will  not  pay  the 
promised  gold.  Charles  tlie  Seventh  is  flying  from  place  to 
place,  and  our  poor  land  is  groaning  under  the  burdens  of  a 
crippling  and  exhausting  war.  We  must  put  an  end  to  this. 
In  such  dire  need  and  necessity  it  is  better  to  die  an  honor- 
able death  than  to  bear  disgrace,  to  live  like  beggars  by  the 
grace  of  our  enemies.  I  have  not  the  insolence  and  courage 
of  cowardice  so  to  live.  I  will  die  or  conquer!  I  will  wash 
out  these  scornful  words  of  the  King  of  England  with  blood. 
Silesia,  my  Silesia,  which  I  have  conquered,  and  which  is 
mine  by  right,  I  will  hold  against  all  the  efforts  of  the  Hun- 
garian queen.  Look,  now,  at  this  document;  it  is  a  treaty 
which  I  have  closed  with  France  against  Austria,  and  for  the 


FREDERICK  THE   GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    171 

protection  of  the  Emperor  Charles.  And  now,  here  is  an- 
other paper.  It  is  a  manifesto  which  Maria  Theresa  has 
scattered  throughout  all  Silesia,  in  which  she  declares  that 
she  no  longer  considers  herself  bound  by  the  treaty  of  Bres- 
lau,  but  claims  Silesia  and  Glatz  as  her  own.  Consequently 
she  commands  the  Silesians  to  withdraw  from  the  protection 
of  Prussia,  and  give  their  allegiance  to  their  rightful  in- 
heritor." 

"  That  is  an  open  breach  of  contract,"  said  one  of  the 
generals. 

"  That  is  contrary  to  all  justice  and  the  rights  of  the 
people,"  cried  another. 

"  That  is  Austrian  politics,"  said  the  king,  smiling. 
''  They  hold  to  a  solemn  contract,  which  was  detrimental  to 
them,  only  so  long  as  necessity  compels  it;  so  soon  as  an 
opportunity  offers  to  their  advantage,  they  prove  faithless. 
They  do  not  care  to  be  considered  honorable,  they  only  de- 
sire to  be  feared,  and  above  all,  they  will  bear  no  equals  and 
no  rivals  in  Germany.  Maria  Theresa  feels  herself  strong 
enough  to  take  back  this  Silesia  I  won  from  her,  and  a 
peace  contract  is  not  sacred  in  her  eyes.  Austria  was  and  is 
naturally  the  enemy  of  Prussia,  and  will  never  forgive  us 
because  our  father,  by  the  poAver  of  his  genius,  made  himself 
a  king.  Austria  would  gladly  see  the  King  of  Prussia 
buried  in  the  little  Elector  of  Brandenburg,  and  make  her- 
self rich  with  our  possessions.  Will  we  suffer  that,  mes- 
sieurs ! " 

"  Xever !  "  said  the  generals,  and  the  fire  of  battle  flashed 
in  their  eyes. 

"  The  Queen  of  Hungary  has  commanded  her  troops  to 
enter  Glatz.     Shall  we  wait  till  this  offence  is  repeated? " 

"  If  the  Austrian  troops  have  made  us  a  visit,  politeness 
requires  that  we  should  return  the  call,"  said  Ziethen,  with  a 
dry  laugh. 

"If  the  Queen  of  Hungary  has  sent  a  manifesto  to  Si- 
lesia, we  must,  above  all  other  things,  answer  this  mani- 
festo," said  the  councillor  of  state. 

"Maria  Theresa  is  so  bold  and  insolent  because  Bellona 
is  a  woman,  consequently  her  sister;  but  we  will  prove  to 
her  that  Dame  Bellona  will  rather  ally  herself  with  gallant 


172  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

men  than  with  sentimental  women,"  said  General  Eothen- 
berg, 

"  Now,  messieurs,  what  say  you  ?  shall  we  have  peace  or 
war?" 

.  "  War,  war !  "  cried  they  all  in  one  breath,  and  with  one 
movement. 

The  king  raised  himself  from  his  chair,  and  his  eagle 
eye  was  dazzling. 

"  The  decisive  word  is  spoken,"  said  he,  solemnly.  "  Let 
it  be  as  you  say!  We  will  have  war!  Prepare  yourselves, 
then,  generals,  to  return  the  visit  of  Austria.  Ziethen  tells 
us  that  this  is  a  courtly  duty.  Our  councillor  will  write  the 
answer  to  Maria  Theresa's  manifesto.  The  Austrians  have 
visited  us  in  Glatz,  we  will  return  their  call  in  Prague. 
Kothenberg  thinks  that  Dame  Bellona  would  incline  to  our 
arms  rather  than  to  those  of  the  queen,  so  we  will  seek  to 
win  her  by  tender  embraces.  I  think  the  goddess  would 
favor  our  Prince  of  Anhalt,  they  have  often  fought  side  by 
side.  Up,  then,  prince,  to  battle  and  to  love's  sweet  courte- 
sies with  your  old  Mistress  Bellona!  Up,  my  friends,  one 
and  all !  the  days  of  peace  are  over.  We  will  have  war,  and 
may  God  grant  His  blessing  to  our  just  cause !  " 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  CLOISTER  r)F  CAMENS. 

It  was  a  still,  lovely  morning.  The  sun  gilded  the  lofty, 
giant  mountain  and  irradiated  its  snow-crowned  top  with 
shifting  and  many-colored  light;  it  appeared  like  a  giant 
lily,  luminous  and  odorous.  The  air  was  so  clear  and  pure, 
that  even  in  the  far  distance  this  range  of  mountains  looked 
grand  and  sublime.  The  spectator  was  deluded  by  the  hope 
of  reaching  their  green  and  smiling  summits  in  a  few  mo- 
ments. In  their  majestic  and  sunny  beauty  they  seemed  to 
beckon  and  to  lure  you  on.  Even  those  who  had  been  for  a 
long  time  accustomed  to  this  enchanting  region  would  have 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    173 

been  impressed  to-day  with  its  exalted  beauty.  Grand  old 
Xature  is  a  woman,  and  has  her  feminine  peculiarities;  she 
rejoices  in  her  beaux  jours,  even  as  other  women. 

The  landscape  spread  out  at  the  feet  of  those  two  monks 
now  walking  in  silent  contemplation  on  the  platform  before 
the  Cloister  of  Camens,  had  truly  to-day  her  beau  jour,  and 
sparkled  and  glittered  in  undisturbed  repose. 

"  How  beautiful  is  the  world ! "  said  one,  folding  his 
hands  piously,  and  gazing  up  into  the  valley ;  "  created  by 
wisdom  and  love,  adapted  to  our  necessities  and  enjoyments, 
to  a  life  well-pleasing  to  God.  Look  now,  brother,  at  the 
imposing  majesty  of  that  mountain,  and  at  the  lovely,  smil- 
ing valley  which  lies  at  its  feet.  There,  in  the  little  village 
of  Camens,  this  busy  world  is  in  motion,  and  from  the  city 
of  Frankenstein  I  distinguish  the  sound  of  the  bells  calling 
to  early  morning  prayer." 

"  That  is,  perhaps,  the  alarm-bell,"  said  the  second  monk ; 
"  the  wind  is  against  us ;  we  could  not  hear  the  sound  of  the 
small  bells.     I  fear  that  is  the  alarm-bell." 

"  Why  should  the  Frankensteiners  sound  the  alarm-bell. 
Brother  Tobias  ? "  said  his  companion,  with  a  soft,  incredu- 
lous smile. 

"  Why,  Brother  Anastasius,  because  the  Austrians  have 
possibly  sent  their  advance  guard  to  Frankenstein.  The 
Frankensteiners  have  sworn  allegiance  to  the  King  of  Prus- 
sia, and  probably  desire  to  keep  this  oath;  they  sound  the 
alarm,  therefore,  to  call  the  lusty  burghers  to  arms." 

"  And  do  you  truly  believe  that  the  Austrians  are  so  near 
us.  Brother  Tobias  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  believe — I  know  it.  Before  three  days  Gen- 
eral Count  Wallis  will  enter  our  cloister  with  his  staff,  and, 
in  the  name  of  Maria  Theresa,  command  us  to  take  the 
oath." 

"  You  can  never  forget  that  we  were,  once  Austrians, 
Brother  Tobias.  Your  eyes  sparkle  when  you  think  that  the 
Austrians  are  coming,  and  5^ou  forget  that  his  excellency  the 
Abbot  Stusche  is,  with  his  whole  heart,  devoted  to  the  King 
of  Prussia,  and  that  he  will  never  again  subject  himself  to 
Austrian  rule." 

"  He  will  be  forced  to  it.  Brother  Anastasius.    The  star 


174  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OB, 

ol  thg  Pfiissian  king  has  deelin^d  i  his  wai*  triumphs  are  at  an 
eftd;  God  has  turned  away  His  face  from  him,  because  he 
is  not  a  true  Christian;  he  is,  indeed,  a  heathen  and  an 
infidel." 

"Still,  still.  Brother  Tobias!  If  the  abbot  heard  you, 
lie  would  punish  you  with  twenty  patev-nosters,  and  you 
know  very  well  that  praying  is  not  the  business  of  your 
choice." 

"  It  is  true ;  I  am  fonder  of  war  and  politics.  I  can 
never  forget  that  in  my  youth  I  was  a  brave  soldier,  and 
have  more  than  once  shed  my  blood  for  Austria.  You  will 
understand  now  why  I  am  an  Austrian,  I  declare  to  you, 
I  would  cheerfully  say  X\\\vt}[  pater-nosters  every  day,  if  we 
could  be  once  more  subject  to  Austria." 

"  Well,  happib',  there  is  no  hope  of  that." 

"  Happily,  there  is  great  hope  of  it.  You  know  nothing 
about  it.  You  read  your  holy  prayers,  you  study  your 
learned  books,  and  take  but  little  interest  in  the  outward 
world.  I  know  all,  hear  all,  take  part  in  all.  I  study  poli- 
tics and  the  world's  history,  as  diligiently  as  you  study  the 
old  Fathers." 

"  Well,  Brother  Tobias,  instruct  me  a  little  in  your 
studies.  You  are  right;  I  care  but  little  for  these  things, 
and  I  am  heartily  glad  of  it.  It  grieves  me  to  hear  of  the 
wrath  and  contentious  of  men.  God  sent  us  into  the  world 
to  live  in  peace  and  love  with  one  another." 

"  If  that  be  so,  why  has  God  permitted  us  to  discover 
gunpowder  ? "  said  Brother  Tobias,  whistling  merrily.  "  I 
say  to  you  that  by  the  power  of  gunpowder  and  the  naked 
sword  Silesia  will  sooU  be  in  possession  of  the  faithful  be- 
liever Maria  Theresa.  Is  it  not  manifest  that  God  is  with 
her  ?  The  devil  in  the  beginning,  with  the  help  of  the  Prus- 
sian king  and  his  wild  army,  did  seem  more  powerful  than 
God  himself!  Only  think  that  the  gates  of  Breslau  were 
opened  by  a  box  on  the  ear !  that  the  year  before,  Prague  was 
taken  almost  without  a  blow!  It  seemed  indeed  like  child's 
play.  Frederick  was  in  possession  of  almost  the  whole  of 
Bohemia,  but  like  a  besieged  and  suffering  garrison  he  was 
obliged  to  creep  away.  God  sent  an  enemy  against  him  who 
is  more  powerful  than  all  mortal  foes,  his  army  was  perishing 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    175 

with  hunger.  There  is  no  difference  between  the  bravest 
soldier  and  the  little  maiden  when  they  fall  into  the  hands 
of  this  adversary.  Hunger  drove  the  victorious  King  of 
Prussia  out  of  Bohemia;  hunger  made  him  abandon  Silesia 
and  seek  refuge  in  Berlin.*  Oh,  I  assure  you,  we  will  soon 
cease  to  be  Prussians.  While  King  Frederick  is  refreshing 
and  amusing  himself  in  Berlin,  the  Austrians  have  entered 
Glatz,  and  bring  us  greetings  from  our  gracious  queen,  Maria 
Theresa." 

"  If  the  King  of  Prussia  hears  of  these  greetings,  he  will 
answer  them  by  cannon-balls." 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  Frederick  of  Prussia  was  idling 
away  in  Berlin,  and  recovering  from  his  disastrous  cam- 
paign in  Bohemia?  The  Austrians  will  have  taken  posses- 
sion of  all  Upper  Silesia  before  the  king  and  his  soldiers^ 
have  satisfied  their  hunger.  I  tell  you,  in  a  few  days  they 
will  be  with  us." 

"  God  forbid !  "  said  Brother  Anastasius ;  '*  then  will  the 
torch  of  war  burn  anew,  and  misfortune  and  misery  will 
reign  again  throughout  Silesia." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true.  I  will  tell  you  another  piece  of  news, 
which  I  heard  yesterday  in  Frankenstein;  it  is  said  that  tin- 
King  of  Prussia  has  quietly  left  Berlin  and  gone  himself 
into  Silesia  to  look  after  the  Austrians.  Would  it  not  be 
charming  if  Frederick  should  make  our  cloister  a  visit,  just 
as  General  Count  Wallis  and  his  troops  entered  Camens  ?  " 

"And  you  would  call  that  charming?"  said  Brother 
Anastasius,  with  a  reproachful  look. 

'^  Yes,  most  assuredly ;  the  king  would  be  taken  prisoner, 
and  the  war  would  be  at  an  end.  You  may  rest  assured  the 
Austrians  would  not  give  the  king  his  liberty  till  he  had 
yielded  up  Silesia  for  ransom." 

"  May  God  be  gracious,  and  guard  us  from  war  and  pes- 
tilence ! "  murmured  Brother  Anastasius,  folding  his  hands 
piously  in  prayer. 

The  thrice-repeated  stroke  of  the  bell  in  the  cloister  in- 
terrupted his  devotions,  and  the  full,  round  face  of  Brothe? 
Tobias  glowed  with  pleasing  anticipations. 

"They  ring  for  breakfast.  Brother  Anastasius."  said  he; 
*  PreHss'a  «  Historj'  of  Frederick  t^p  Great," 


176  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

"  let  us  hasten  before  Brother  Baptist,  who  is  ever  the  first 
at  the  table,  appropriates  the  best  morsels  and  lays  them 
on  his  plate.  Come,  come,  brother;  after  breakfast  we  will 
go  into  the  garden  and  water  our  flowers.  We  have  a 
lovely  day  and  ample  time — it  will  be  three  hours  before 
mass." 

"  Come,  then,  brother,  and  may  your  dangerous  prophe- 
cies and  expectations  not  be  fulfilled !  " 

The  two  monks  stepped  into  the  cloister,  and  a  deep  and 
imbroken  silence  reigned  around,  interrupted  only  by  the 
sweet  songs  of  the  birds  and  the  light  movements  of  their 
wings.  The  building  was  in  the  noble  style  of  the  middle 
ages,  and  stood  out  in  grand  and  harmonious  proportions 
against  the  deep  blue  of  the  horizon. 

It  was,  without  doubt,  to  observe  the  beauty  and  grandeur 
of  this  structure,  that  two  travellers  who  had  toiled  slowly 
up  the  path  leading  from  the  village  of  Camens,  now  paused 
and  looked  with  wondering  glances  at  the  cloister. 

"  There  must  be  a  splendid  view  from  the  tower,"  said 
the  oldest  and  smaller  of  the  travellers  to  his  tall  and  slen- 
der companion,  who  was  gazing  with  rapture  at  the  enchant- 
ing landscape. 

"  It  must  indeed  be  a  glorious  prospect,"  he  replied  with  a 
respectful  bow. 

"  It  affords  a  splendid  opportunity  to  look  far  and  wide 
over  the  land,  and  to  see  if  the  Austrian  troops  are  really  on 
the  march,"  said  the  other,  with  a  stern  and  somewhat  hasty 
tone.     "  Let  us  enter  and  ascend  the  tower." 

The  youth  bowed  silently,  and  followed,  at  some  little  dis- 
tance, the  hasty  steps  of  his  companion.  They  reached  the 
platform,  and  stood  for  a  moment  to  recover  breath. 

"  We  have  reached  the  summit — if  we  were  only  safely 
down  again." 

"  We  can  certainly  descend ;  the  question  is,  under  what 
circumstances  f  " 

"  You  mean,  whether  free  or  as  prisoners  ?  Well,  I  see 
no  danger;  we  are  completely  disguised,  and  no  one  knows 
me  here.  The  Abbot  Amandus  is  dead,  and  the  new  abbot 
is  unknown  to  me.    Let  us  make  haste ;  ring  the  bell." 

^he  youth  was  in  the  act  gi  obeying,  wJi9B  suddenly  a 


FEEDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    177 

voice  cried  out :  "  Don't  sound  the  bell — I  will  come  myself 
and  open  the  door." 

A  man  had  been  standing  at  the  upper  story,  by  an  open 
window,  and  heard  the  conversation  of  the  two  travellers. 
He  drew  in  his  head  hastily  and  disappeared. 

"  It  seems  I  am  not  so  unknown  as  I  supposed,"  said  the 
smaller  of  the  two  gentlemen,  with  a  quiet  smile. 

"  Who  knows  whether  these  monks  are  reliable  and 
true  ?  "  whispered  the  other. 

"  You  certainly  would  not  doubt  these  exalted  servants 
of  God?  I,  for  my  part,  shall  believe  in  their  sincerity 
till  they  convince  me  of  the  contrary.  Ah!  the  door  is 
opened." 

The  small  door  was  indeed  open,  and  a  monk  came  out, 
and  hastily  drew  near  to  the  two  travellers. 

"  I  am  the  Abbot  Tobias  Stusche;  I  am  also  a  man  wholly 
devoted  to  the  King  of  Prussia,  though  he  does  not  know 
me." 

The  abbot  laid  such  a  peculiar  expression  upon  these 
last  words,  that  the  strangers  were  forced  to  remark  them. 

"  Do  you  not  know  the  King  of  Prussia  ?  "  said  the  elder, 
fixing  his  eagle  eye  upon  the  kindly  and  friendly  face  of  the 
abbot. 

"  I  know  the  king  when  he  does  not  wish  to  be  incognito,'''' 
said  the  abbot,  with  a  smile. 

"  If  the  king  were  here,  would  you  counsel  him  to  remain 
incognito  f  " 

"  I  would  counsel  that ;  some  among  my  monks  are  Aus- 
trian in  sympathy,  and  I  hear  the  Austrians  are  at  hand." 

"  My  object  is  to  look  out  from  your  tower  after  the 
Austrians.     Let  us  enter;  show  us  the  way." 

The  abbot  said  nothing,  but  entered  the  cloister  hastily, 
and  cast  a  searching  glance  in  every  direction. 

"  They  are  all  yet  in  the  refectory,  and  the  windows  open 
upon  the  gardens.     But  no — there  is  Brother  Anastasius." 

It  was  truly  Brother  Anastasius,  who  stood  at  the  win- 
dow, and  regarded  them  with  astonished  and  sympathetic 
glances.  The  abbot  nodded  to  him  and  laid  his  forefinger 
lightly  upon  his  lips;  he  then  hastily  crossed  the  threshold 
of  the  little  door. 


178  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;   OR, 

The  stranger  laid  his  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  abbot, 
and  said  sternly,  "  Did  you  not  give  a  sign  to  this  monk  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  sign  of  silence,"  answered  the  abbot ;  and 
turning  back,  he  looked  calmly  upon  the  strangers. 

"  Let  us  go  onward."  And  with  a  firm  step  they  entered 
the  cloister. 


CHAPTEK  XL 

THE  KING  AND  THE  ABBOT. 

Silently  they  passed  through  the  lofty  halls  and  corri- 
dors, which  resounded  with  the  steps  of  the  strangers,  and 
reached  the  rooms  appropriated  to  the  abbot.  As  they  en- 
tered and  the  door  closed  behind  them,  shutting  them  off 
from  the  seeing  and  listening  world,  the  face  of  the  abbot 
assumed  an  expression  of  the  most  profound  reverence  and 
emotion.  He  crossed  his  hands  over  his  breast,  and  bowing 
profoundly,  he  said :  "  Will  your  majesty  allow  me  from  the 
depths  of  my  soul  to  welcome  you?  In  the  rooms  of  the 
Abbot  Tobias  Stusehe,  King  Frederick  need  not  preserve  his 
incognito.  Blessed  be  your  entrance  into  my  house,  and 
may  your  departure  also  be  blessed !  " 

The  king  smiled.  "  This  blessed  conclusion,  I  suppose, 
depends  entirely  upon  your  excellency.  I  really  cannot  say 
what  danger  threatens  tis.  It  certainly  was  not  my  inten- 
tion to  wander  here;  to  stretch  out  my  reconnoissance  to 
such  a  distance.  But  what  would  you,  sir  abbot  ?  I  am  not 
only  a  king  and  soldier,  but  I  am  a  man,  with  eye  and  heart 
open  to  the  beauties  of  nature,  and  I  worship  God  in  His 
works  of  creation.  Your  cloister  enticed  me  with  its  beauty. 
In  place  of  mounting  my  horse  and  riding  back  from  Frank- 
enstein, I  was  lured  hither  to  admire  your  building  and  enjoy 
the  splendid  prospect  from  your  tower.  Allow  me  to  rest 
awhile;  give  me  a  glass  of  wine,  and  then  we  will  mount  the 
tower." 

There  was  so  much  of  calm,  bold  courage,  so  much  of 
proud  self-consciousness  in  the  bearing  of  the  king,  that  the 


PREDERICK  IN  THE  CLOISTER  OF  CAMEN8. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AKD  HIS  FRIENDS.     17<j 

poor,  anxious  abbot  could  not  find  courage  to  express  his 
apprehensions.  He  turned  and  looked  imploringly  at  the 
companion  of  the  king,  who  was  no  other  than  the  young 
oflfcer  of  the  life-guard,  Frederick  von  Trenck.  The  youth 
seemed  to  share  fully  the  careless  indifference  of  his  royal 
master;  his  face  was  smiling,  and  he  did  not  seem  to  under- 
stand the  meaning  looks  of  the  abbot. 

"  Will  your  majesty  allow  me,  and  me  alone,  to  have  the 
honor  of  serving  you?"  said  his  excellency.  "I  am  jealous 
of  the  great  happiness  which  Providence  has  accorded  me, 
and  I  will  not  divide  it  with  another,  not  even  with  my 
monks." 

Frederick  laughed  heartily.  "  Confess,  your  excellency, 
that  you  dare  not  trust  your  monks.  You  do  not  know  that 
they  are  as  good  Prussians  as  I  have  happily  found  you  to 
be?  Go,  then,  if  it  is  agreeable  to  you,  and  with  your  own 
pious  hands  bring  me  a  glass  of  wine,  I  need  not  say  good 
wine — you  cloistered  men  understand  that." 

Frederick  leaned  back  comfortably  in  his  arm-chair  and 
conversed  cheerfully,  even  merrily,  with  his  young  adjutant 
and  the  worthy  abbot,  who  hastened  here  and  there,  and 
drew  from  closets  and  hiding-places  wine,  fruit,  and  other 
rich  viands.  The  cloistered  stillness,  the  unbroken  quiet 
which  surrounded  him,  were  pleasing  to  the  king;  his  fea- 
tures were  illuminated  with  that  soft  and  at  the  same  time 
imposing  smile  which  played  but  seldom  uix)n  his  lips,  but 
which,  like  the  sun,  when  it  appeared,  filled  all  hearts  with 
light  and  gladness.  Several  hours  passed — hours  which  the 
king  did  not  seem  to  observe,  but  the  heart  of  the  poor  abbot 
was  trembling  with  apprehension. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  king,  "  I  am  rested,  refreshed,  and 
strengthened.  Will  your  excellency  conduct  me  to  the  tower  ? 
then  I  will  return  to  Frankenstein." 

"  There  is  happily  a  way  to  the  tower  for  my  use  alone," 
said  the  abbot,  "  where  we  are  certain  to  be  met  by  no  one. 
I  demand  pardon,  sire,  the  way  is  dark  and  winding,  and  we 
must  mount  many  small  steps." 

"  Well,  abbot,  it  resembles  the  way  to  eternal  life ;  from 
the  power  of  darkness  to  light;  from  the  path  of  sin  and 
folly  to  that  of  knowledge  and  true  wisdom.  I  will  seek 
12 


180  BERLIK  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

after  this  knowledge  from  your  tower,  worthy  abbot.  Have 
you  my  field-glass,  Trenck  ?  " 

The  adjutant  bowed,  silently;  they  passed  through  the 
corridor  and  mounted  the  steps,  reaching  at  last  the  plat- 
form at  the  top  of  the  tower. 

A  wondrous  prospect  burst  upon  their  view;  the  horizon 
seemed  bounded  by  majestic  mountains  of  porphyry — this 
third  element  or  place  of  deposit  of  the  enchanting  primeval 
earth,  out  of  which  mighty  but  formless  mass  our  living, 
breathing,  and  beautiful  world  sprang  into  creation,  and  the 
stars  sang  together  for  joy.  In  the  midst  of  these  mountains 
stood  the  "  Giant,"  with  his  snow-crowned  point,  like  the 
great  finger  of  God,  reaching  up  into  the  heavens,  and  con- 
trasting strangely  with  the  lofty  but  round  green  summits 
of  the  range,  now  gilded  by  the  morning  sun,  and  sparkling 
in  changing  rays  of  light. 

The  king  looked  upon  this  picture  with  rapture;  an  ex- 
pression of  prayer  and  praise  was  written  upon  his  face. 
But  with  the  proud  reserve  which  ever  belongs  to  those  who, 
by  exalted  rank  or  genius,  are  isolated  from  other  men,  with 
the  shrinking  of  a  great  soul,  the  king  would  allow  no  one 
to  witness  his  emotion.  He  wished  to  be  alone,  alone  with 
Nature  and  Nature's  God;  he  dismissed  the  abbot  and  his 
adjutant,  and  commanded  them  to  wait  in  the  rooms  below 
for  him.  And  now,  convinced  that  no  one  saw  or  heard  him, 
the  king  gave  himself  up  wholly  to  the  exalted  and  pious 
feelings  which  agitated  his  soul.  With  glistening  eyes  he 
gazed  upon  the  enchanting  landscape,  which  glowed  and 
shimmered  in  the  dazzling  sunshine. 

"  God,  God !  "  said  he,  in  low  tones ;  "  who  can  doubt  that 
He  is,  and  that  He  is  from  everlasting  to  everlasting  ?  Who, 
that  looks  upon  the  beauty,  the  harmony,  and  order  of  crea- 
tion, can  doubt  of  His  wisdom,  and  that  His  goodness  is  over 
all  His  works  ?  *  O  my  God,  I  worship  you  in  your 
works  of  creation  and  providence,  and  I  bow  my  head  in 
adoration  at  the  footstool  of  your  divine  Majesty.  Why 
cannot  men  be  content  with  this  great,  mysterious,  exalted, 
and  ever-enduring  church,  with  which  God  has  surrounded 
them?  Why  can  they  not  worship  in  Nature's  great  cathe- 
*  The  king's  own  words.    "  (Euvres  posthumes,"  page  Hi2. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    181 

dral?  Why  do  they  confine  themselves  to  churches  of 
brick  and  mortar,  the  work  of  men's  hands,  and  listen  to 
their  hypocritical  priests,  rather  than  listen  to  and  worship 
God  in  His  beautiful  world?  They  cry  out  against  me  and 
call  me  an  infidel,  but  my  heart  is  full  of  love  and  faith  in 
my  Creator,  and  I  worship  Him,  not  in  priestly  words,  but 
in  the  depths  of  my  soul." 

And  now  Frederick  cast  a  smiling  greeting  to  the  lovely 
phenomena  which  lay  at  his  feet.  His  thoughts  had  been 
with  God,  and  his  glance  upward;  but  now  his  eyes  wan- 
dered over  the  perfumed  and  blooming  valley  which  lay  in 
the  depths  between  the  mountains;  he  numbered  the  little 
cities  and  villages,  with  their  red  roofs  and  graceful  church- 
spires;  he  admired  the  straw-thatched  huts  upon  whose 
highest  points  the  stork  had  built  her  nest,  and  stood  by  it 
in  observant  and  majestic  composure. 

"  This  is  all  mine ;  I  won  it  with  my  spear  and  bow.  It 
is  mine,  and  I  will  never  yield  it  up.  I  will  prove  to  Maria 
Theresa  that  what  was  good  to  take  was  not  good  to  re- 
store. No,  no !  Silesia  is  mine ;  my  honor,  my  pride,  and 
my  fame  demand  it.  I  will  never  give  it  up.  I  will  de- 
fend it  with  rivers  of  blood,  yes,  with  my  own  heart's 
blood!" 

He  took  his  glass  and  looked  again  over  the  luxurious 
valley;  he  started  and  fixed  his  glass  steadily  upon  one 
point.  In  the  midst  of  the  smiling  meadows  through  which 
the  highway  wound  like  a  graceful  stream,  he  saw  a  curious, 
glittering,  moving  mass.  At  the  first  glance  it  looked  like 
a  crowd  of  creeping  ants;  it  soon,  however,  assumed  larger 
proportions,  and,  at  last,  approaching  ever  nearer,  the  forms 
of  men  could  be  distinctly  seen,  and  now  he  recognized  a 
column  of  marching  soldiers. 

"  Austrians,"  said  the  king,  with  calm  composure.  He 
turned  his  glass  in  the  other  direction,  where  a  road  led 
into  the  valley;  this  path  was  also  filled  with  soldiers,  who, 
by  rapid  marches,  were  approaching  the  cloister.  "  With- 
out doubt  they  know  that  I  am  here,"  said  the  king ;  "  they 
have  learned  this  in  the  village,  and  have  come  to  take  me 
prisoner.    Eh  bien,  nous  verrons^ 

S?  ?a7i»g>  Fy^^^rick  put  Jiis  ^\m  i^  bi?  poQkot  4^' 


182  BERLIN  AXD  SANS-SOUCl ;  OR, 

scended  the  steps,  and  with  cool  indifference  entered  the 
room  of  the  abbot. 

"  Messieurs,"  said  he,  laughing  merrily,  as  he  looked  at 
the  good-natured  and  unsuspicious  faces  of  the  worthy  abbot 
and  the  young  oflBcer,  "  we  must  decide  upon  some  plan  of 
defence,  for  the  Austrians  draw  near  on  every  side  of  the 
cloister." 

"  Oh,  my  prophetic  soul !  "  murmured  the  abbot,  folding 
his  hands  in  prayer. 

Trenck  rushed  to  the  window  and  loojced  searchingly 
abroad.  At  this  moment  a  loud  knock  was  heard  ui)on  the 
door,  and  an  anxious  voice  called  to  the  abbot. 

"  All  is  lost,  the  Austrians  are  already  here !  "  cried  To- 
bias Stusche,  wringing  his  hands  despairingly. 

"  Xo !  "  said  the  king,  "  they  cannot  yet  have  reached  the 
cloister,  and  that  is  not  the  voice  of  a  soldier  who  commands, 
but  that  of  a  monk  who  prays,  and  is  almost  dead  with  ter- 
ror; let  us  open  the  door." 

"  O  my  God,  your  majesty !  would  you  betray  yourself  ? " 
cried  Stusche,  and  forgetting  all  etiquette,  he  rushed  to  the 
king,  laid  his  hand  upon  his  arm  and  held  him  back. 

"  Xo,"  said  the  king,  "  I  will  not  betray  myself,  neither 
will  I  conceal  myself.  I  will  meet  my  fate  with  my  face  to 
the  foe." 

"  Open,  open,  for  God's  sake ! "  cried  the  voice  with- 
out. 

"  He  prays  in  God's  name,"  said  the  king.  **  I  will  open 
the  door."    He  crossed  the  room  and  drew  back  the  bolt. 

And  now,  the  pale  and  anxious  face  of  Brother  Anas- 
tasius  appeared.  He  entered  hastily,  closed  and  fastened 
the  door. 

"  Pardon,"  said  he,  trembling  and  breathless — "  pardon 
that  I  have  dared  to  enter.  The  danger  is  great ;  the  Aus- 
trians surround  the  cloister." 

"  Are  they  already  here  ?  "    said  the  king. 

"  No ;  but  they  have  sent  a  courier,  who  commands  us 
immediately  to  open  all  the  doors  and  give  entrance  to  the 
soldiers  of  Maria  Theresa." 

"  Have  they  given  a  reason  for  this  command  ?  " 

"Yes;  they  nay  they  know  assuredly  that  t-h<'  King  of 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    188 

Prussia  is  concealed  here,  and  they  come  to  search  the  clois- 
ter." 

"Hate  you  not  said  to  them,  that  we  arc  not  only  the 
servants  of  God,  but  the  servants  of  the  King  of  Prussia? 
Have  you  not  said  to  them  that  the  doors  of  our  cloister  can 
only  open  to  Prussian  troops  i " 

"  Yes,  your  excellency.  I  told  the  soldier  all  this,  but  he 
laughed,  and  said  the  pandours  of  Colonel  von  Trenck  knew 
how  to  obtain  an  entrance." 

"Ah!  it  is  Trenck,  with  his  pandours,"  cried  the  king, 
casting  a  searching  glance  at  Frederick  von  Trenck,  who 
stood  opposite,  with  pale  and  tightly -compressed  lips;  he 
met  the  eye  of  the  king  boldly,  however,  and,  looked  him 
steadily  in  the  face. 

"  Is  Colonel  Trehck  your  relation  ? "  said  the  king, 
hastily. 

"Yes,  your  majesty;  he  is  my  father's  brother's  son," 
said  the  young  man,  proudly. 

"  Ah !  I  see  you  have  a  clear  conscietice,"  said  the  king, 
laying  his  hand  smilingly  upon  the  youth's  shoulder.  "  But, 
tell  me,  worthy  abbot,  do  you  know  any  way  to  rescue  us 
from  this  mouse-trap  ?  " 

Tobias  did  not  reply  immediately;  he  stood  thoughtfull.v 
with  his  arms  folded,  then  raised  his  head  quickly,  as  if  ho 
had  come  to  some  bold  conclusion ;  energy  and  purpose  were 
written  in  his  face.  "  Will  your  majesty  make  use  of  the 
means  which  I  dare  to  offer  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  they  are  not  unworthy.  I  owe  it  to  my  people 
not  to  lay  Upon  them  the  burden  of  my  ransom." 

"  Then  I  hope,  with  God's  help,  to  serve  your  majesty.'' 
He  turned  to  the  monk,  and  said,  with  a  proud,  cammanding 
tone :  "  Brother  Anastasius,  listen  to  my  commands.  Go  im- 
mediately to  Messner,  order  him  in  my  name  to  call  all  the 
brothers  to  high  mass  in  the  choir  of  the  church;  threaten 
him  with  my  wrath  and  the  severest  puuishmeut,  if  he 
dares  to  speak  to  one  of  the  brethren.  I  will  prove  my 
monks,  and  see  if  they  recognize  that  obedience  is  the  first 
duty  in  a  cloister." 

"  While  Messner  assembles  the  priests,  shall  the  bell 
sound  for  mass  ?  " 


184  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOtTCI;  OR, 

"Hasten,  Brother  Anastasius;  in  ten  minutes  we  must 
be  all  in  the  church." 

"  And  you  expect  to  save  me  by  celebrating  high  mass  ? " 
said  Frederick,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"  Yes,  sire,  I  expect  it.  Will  your  majesty  graciously  ac- 
company me  to  my  dressing-room  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  UNKNOWN  ABBOT. 

The  bell  continued  to  sound,  and  its  silver  tones  echoed 
in  the  lofty  halls  and  corridors,  through  which  the  priests, 
in  their  superb  vestments  and  holy  orders,  passed  onward  to 
the  church.  Surprise  and  wonder  were  written  upon  every 
face;  curious  questions  were  burning  upon  every  lip,  re- 
strained, however,  by  the  strong  habit  of  obedience.  >  The 
abbot  had  commanded  that  not  one  word  should  be  ex- 
changed between  the  brethren.  The  abbot  must  be  obeyed, 
though  the  monks  might  die  of  curiosity.  Silently  they 
entered  the  church.  And  now  the  bell  ceased  to  toll,  and 
the  grand  old  organ  filled  the  church  with  a  rich  stream  of 
harmony.  Suddenly  the  notes  were  soft  and  touching,  and 
the  strong,  full  voices  of  men  rose  high  above  them. 

While  the  organ  swelled,  and  the  church  resounded  with 
songs  of  prayer  and  praise,  the  Abbot  Tobias  Stusche  en- 
tered the  great  door.  But  this  time  he  was  not,  as  usual, 
alone.  Another  abbot,  in  the  richly-embroidered  habili- 
ments of  a  fete  day,  stood  by  his  side.  No  one  had  ever  seen 
this  abbot.     He  was  wholly  unknown. 

Every  eye  was  turned  upon  him;  every  one  was  struck 
with  the  commanding  and  noble  countenance,  with  the  im- 
posing brow  and  luminous  eye,  which  cast  searching  and 
threatening  glances  in  every  direction.  All  felt  that  some- 
thing strange,  unheard  of,  was  passing  in  their  midst.  They 
knew  this  stranger,  glowing  with  youth,  beauty,  and  majesty, 
was  no  common  priest,  no  humble  brother. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     185 

The  command  to  strict  silence  had  been  given,  and  im- 
plicit obedience  is  the  first  duty  of  the  cloister.  So  they 
were  silent,  sang,  and  prayed;  while  Tobias  Stusche,  with 
the  strange  abbot,  swept  slowly  and  solemnly  through  the 
aisles  up  to  the  altar.  They  both  fell  upon  their  knees  and 
folded  their  hands  in  silent  prayer. 

Again  the  organ  swelled,  and  the  voices  of  the  choristers 
rose  up  in  adoration  and  praise;  but  every  eye  and  every 
thought  were  fixed  upon  the  strange  abbot  kneeling  before 
the  high  altar,  and  wrestling  with  God  in  prayer.  And  now 
the  organ  was  silent,  and  the  low  prayers  began.  The  monks 
murmured  mechanically  the  accustomed  words;  nothing  was 
heard  but  sighs  of  penitence  and  trembling  petitions,  which 
seemed  to  fade  and  die  away  amongst  the  lofty  pillars  of  the 
cathedral. 

Suddenly  a  loud  noise  was  heard  without,  the  sound  of 
pistols  and  threatening  voices  demanding  admittance.  No 
one  regarded  this.  The  church  doors  were  violently  thrown 
open,  and  wild,  rude  forms,  sunbrowned  and  threatening 
faces  appeared.  For  one  moment  noisy  tumult  and  outcry 
filled  the  church,  but  it  was  silenced  by  the  holy  service,  nbw 
celebrated  by  these  kneeling,  praying  monks,  who  held  their 
beads  in  their  hands,  and  gave  no  glance,  in  token  of  interest 
or  consciousness,  toward  the  wild  men  who  had  so  insolently 
interrupted  the  worship  of  God.  The  soldiers  bowed  their 
heads  humbly  upon  their  breasts,  and  prayed  for  pardon  and 
grace.  This  holy  duty  being  fulfilled,  they  remembered 
their  worldly  calling,  and  commenced  to  search  the  church 
for  the  King  of  Prussia,  whom  they  believed  to  be  hidden 
there.  The  clang  of  spurs  and  heavy  steps  resounded 
through  the  aisles,  and  completely  drowned  the  prayers  and 
sighs  of  the  monks,  who,  kneeling  upon  their  stools,  seemed 
to  have  no  eye  or  thought  for  any  thing  but  the  solemn  ser- 
vice in  which  they  were  engaged. 

The  pandours,  in  their  dark,  artistic  costumes,  with  the 
red  mantle  fastened  to  their  shoulders,  swarmed  through  the 
church,  and  with  flashing  eyes  and  scarcely  suppressed  curses 
searched  in  every  niche  and  behind  every  pillar  for  Fred- 
erick of  Prussia.  How  often  did  these  wild  forms  pass  by 
the  two  abbots,  who  were  still  kneeling,  immovable  in  raptur- 


186  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

ous  meditation,  before  the  high  altar!  How  often  did  their 
swords  strike  upon  the  floor  behind  them,  and  even  fasten 
in  the  vestment  of  the  strange  abbot,  who,  with  closed  eyes 
and  head  bowed  down  upon  his  breast,  had  no  knowledge  of 
their  presence ! 

The  prayers  had  continued  much  longer  than  usual,  and 
yet  the  abbot  did  not  pronounce  the  benediction !  And  now 
he  did  indeed  give  a  sign,  but  not  the  one  expected.  He 
rose  from  his  knees,  but  djid  not  leave  the  church;  with  his 
companion,  he  moimtcd  the  steps  to  the  altar,  to  draw  near 
to  the  holy  crucifix  and  bless  the  host.  He  nodded  to  the 
choir,  and  again  the  organ  and  the  choristers  filled  the  church 
Avith  melody. 

This  was  something  so  extraordinary  that  the  monks 
turned  pale,  and  questioned  their  consciences  anxiously. 
Had  they  not  committed  some  great  crime,  for  which  their 
stern  abbot  was  resolved  to  punish  them  with  everlasting 
prayer  and  penitence?  The  pandours  knew  nothing  of  this 
double  mass.  They  had  now  searched  the  whole  church,  and 
as  the  king  was  not  to  be  found,  they  rushed  out  in  order  to 
search  the  cells,  and,  indeed,  every  comer  of  the  cloister. 
The  service  still  continued;  the  unkuo'mi  abbot  stood  be^ 
fore  the  high  altar,  while  Abbot  Stusche  took  the  host  and 
held  it  up  before  the  kneeling  monks. 

At  this  moment  a  Avild  cry  of  triumph  was  heard  without ; 
then  curses  and  loud  laughter.  The  monks  were  bowed 
down  before  the  host,  and  did  not  seem  to  hear  the  tumult. 
They  sang  and  prayed,  and  now  the  outcry  and  noise  of  strife 
was  hushed,  and  nothing  was  heard  but  the  faint  and  dying 
tones  of  the  organ.  The  pandours  had  left  the  cloister; 
they  had  found  the  adutant  of  the  king  and  borne  him  off 
as  a  rich  spoil  to  their  commander.  Colonel  von  Trenck. 

The  soldiers  were  gone,  it  was  therefore  not  necessary  to 
continue  the  worship  of  God.  Tobias  Stusche  repeated  a 
pater-noster,  gave  his  hand  to  the  unknowTi  abbot,  and  they 
turned  to  leave  the  church.  As  they  slowly  and  majestically 
swept  through  the  aisles,  the  monks  bowed  their  heads  in 
reverence;  the  organ  breathed  its  last  grand  accord,  and  the 
glorious  sun  threw  a  beckoning  love-greeting  through  the 
lofty  windows  of  painted  glass.     It  was  a  striking  and  sol- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    187 

emn  scene,  and  the  unknown  abbot  seemed  strangely  im- 
pressed. He  paused  at  the  door  and  turned  once  more,  and 
bis  glance  wandered  slowly  over  the  church. 

One  hour  later  the  heavy  state-coach  of  the  Abbot  of 
Clostenberg  rolled  down  from  Camcns.  In  the  coach  sat 
Tobias  Stusche  with  the  unknown  abbot.  They  took  the 
road  to  Frankenstein.  'Not  far  from  the  gate  the  carriage 
stopped,  and  to  the  amazement  of  the  coachman,  no  abbot, 
but  a  soldier  clad  in  the  well-known  Prussian  uniform,  de- 
scended. After  leaving  the  coach,  he  turned  again  and 
bowed  to  the  worthy  Abbot  Stusche. 

"  I  will  never  forget  this  bold  and  noble  act  of  your  ex- 
cellency," said  the  king,  giving  his  hand  to  the  abbot.  "  You 
and  your  cloister  may  at  all  times  count  upon  my  special 
favor.  But  for  your  aid,  I  should  this  day  have  been  be- 
trayed into  a  most  unworthy  and  shameful  imprisonment. 
The  first  rich  abbey  which  is  vacant  I  Avill  give  to  you,  and 
then  in  all  future  time  I  will  confirm  the  choice  of  abbot, 
which  the  monks  themselves  shall  make."  * 

"  O  my  God !  "  exclaimed  the  abbot,  "  how  rarely  must 
your  majesty  have  met  with  honest  and  faithful  men,  if  you 
reward  so  richly  a  simple  and  most  natural  act  of  love !  " 

"  Faithful  hearts  are  rare,"  said  the  king.  "  I  have  met 
this  blue-eyed  daughter  of  Heaven  but  seldom  upon  my  path, 
and  it  is  perhaps  for  this  reason  that  her  grandeur  and  her 
beauty  are  so  enchanting  to  me.  Farewell,  sir  abbot,  and 
greet  the  brother  Anastasius  for  me." 

"  Will  not  your  majesty  allow  me  to  accompany  you  to 
the  city?" 

"  Xo,  it  is  better  that  I  go  on  foot.  In  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  I  shall  be  there ;  my  carriage  and  my  guard  await  me, 

*  In  gratitude  for  this  service,  the  king  gave  the  rich  Abbev  of  Scntus  U> 
Stusche,  and  kept  up  with  him  always  uie  kindest  intercourse.  There  arc 
letters  still  preserved  written  by  the  king  himself  to  the  abbot,  filled  with 
expressions  of  heart-felt  kindness  and  favor.  Frederick  sent  him  from 
Meissen  a  beautiful  set  of  porcelain,  and  splendid  stuff  for  pontifical  robes, 
and  rare  champagne  wine.  While  in  Breslau,  he  invited  hira  twice  to  visit 
him.  Soon  after  the  close  of  the  Seven  Years' War,  Stusche  died.  The  king 
sent  a  royal  present  to  the  cloister  with  a  request  that  on  the  birthday  of  the 
abbot  a  solemn  mass  should  be  celebrated.  Some  years  later,  Frederick 
stopped  at  Camens,  and  told  the  abbot  to  commission  the  first  monk  who 
died  to  bear  his  loving  greeting  to  the  good  Abbot  Stusche  in  Paradise.— 
(See  Rodenbeck.) 


188  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

and  I  wish  no  one  to  be  acquainted  with  the  adventures  of 
this  day.     It  remains  a  secret  between  us  for  the  present." 

Frederick  greeted  him  once  more,  and  then  stepped  light- 
ly onward  toward  the  city.  The  coach  of  the  abbot  returned 
slowly  to  the  cloister. 

The  king  had  advanced  but  a  short  distance,  when  the 
sound  of  an  approaching  horse  met  his  ear.  He  stood  still 
and  looked  down  the  highway.  This  time  the  Austrian  uni- 
form did  not  meet  his  eye ;  he  recognized  in  the  distance  the 
Prussian  colors,  and  as  the  horse  approached  nearer,  he 
marked  the  uniform  of  a  young  officer  of  his  life-guard. 
Before  Frederick  found  time  for  surprise,  the  rider  had 
reached  him,  checked  his  horse  with  a  strong  hand,  sprang 
from  the  saddle,  bowed  profoundly  before  the  king,  and 
reached  him  the  reins. 

"  Will  not  your  majesty  do  me  the  favor  to  mount  my 
horse  ?  "  said  Trenck,  calm  and  unembarrassed,  and  without 
alluding  by  word  or  smile  to  the  adventure  of  the  day. 

The  king  looked  at  him  searchingly.  "  From  whence 
come  you  ?  "  said  he  sternly. 

"  From  Glatz,  where  the  pandours  carried  me  as  a  pris- 
oner, and  delivered  me  to  Colonel  Trenck." 

"  You  were  then  a  prisoner,  and  were  released  without 
ransom?  "  ' 

"  Colonel  Trenck  laughed  merrily  when  his  pandours  de- 
livered me  to  him,  and  declared  I  was  the  King  of  Prussia." 

"  Colonel  Trenck  knows  you  ?  " 

"  Sire,  I  saw  him  often  in  my  father's  house." 

"  Go  on :  he  recognized  you,  then  ?  " 

"  He  knew  me,  and  said  laughingly,  he  had  sent  to  take 
Frederick,  King  of  Prussia,  and  not  Frederick  von  Trenck, 
prisoner.  I  was  free,  I  might  go  where  I  wished,  and  as  I 
could  not  go  on  foot,  he  presented  me  with  one  of  his  best 
horses;  and  now  I  am  here,  will  not  your  majesty  do  me  the 
honor  to  mount  this  horse  ?  " 

"  I  mount  no  Austrian  horse,"  said  the  king  in  a  harsh 
tone. 

The  young  officer  fixed  his  glance  for  one  moment,  with 
an  expression  of  regret  upon  the  proud  and  noble  animal, 
who    with    dilating    nostrils,    flashing    eyes,    and    impatienf 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  filS  FRIENDS.    18^ 

stamping  of  the  fore-feet,  stood  by  his  side,  arching  grace- 
fully his  finely-formed  and  muscular  throat.  But  this  ex- 
pression of  regret  soon  vanished.  He  let  go  the  bridle  and 
bowing  to  the  king  he  said,  "  I  am  at  your  majesty's  com- 
mand." 

The  king  glanced  backward  at  the  noble  steed,  who, 
slender  and  graceful  and  swift  as  a  gazelle,  was  in  a  moment 
so  far  distant  as  to  be  no  larger  than  a  flying  eagle.  He 
then  advanced  toward  Frankenstein:  both  were  silent; 
neither  gave  another  thought  to  the  gallant  horse,  who,  rider- 
less and  guided  by  instinct  alone,  was  far  on  the  way  to 
Glatz.  Once  before  they  reached  the  city,  the  king  turned 
and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  open,  youthful,  and  handsome 
face  of  Trenck. 

"  I  believe  it  would  be  better  for  you  if  this  colonel  of 
pandours  were  not  your  relation,"  said  the  king  thoughtfully ; 
"  there  can  no  good  come  to  you  from  this  source,  but  only 
evil." 

Frederick  von  Trenck  turned  pale.  "  Does  your  majesty 
command  that  I  shall  change  my  name  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  king  after  a  moment's  reflection.  "  The 
name  is  a  holy  inheritance  which  is  handed  down  from  our 
fathers,  and  it  should  not  be  lightly  cast  away.  But  be  care- 
ful, be  careful  in  every  particular.  Understand  my  words, 
and  think  upon  my  warning.  Baron  von  Trenck." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE  LEVEE   OP  A  DANCER. 

In  Behren  Street,  which  was  at  that  time  one  of  the 
most  recherch4  and  beautiful  streets  of  Berlin,  order  and 
quiet  generally  reigned.  To-day,  however,  an  extraordi- 
nary activity  prevailed  in  this  aristocratic  locality;  splendid 
equipages  and  gallant  riders,  followed  by  their  attendants, 
dashed  by;  all  seemed  to  have  the  same  object;  all  drew  up 
before  the  large  and  elegant  mansion  which  had  for  some 


190  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

time  been  the  centre  of  attraction  to  all  the  courtly  cavaliers 
of  the  Prussian  capital.  Some  of  the  royal  princes,  the 
young  Duke  of  Wiirtemberg,  counts,  ambassadors,  and  gen- 
erals, were  to-day  entreating  an  audience. 

Who  dwelt  in  this  house  ?  What  distinguished  person  was 
honored  by  all  these  marks  of  consideration?  Why  was 
every  face  thoughtful  and  earnest?  Was  this  a  funeral,  and 
was  this  general  gloom  the  expression  of  the  heart's  despair 
at  the  thought  of  the  loved  and  lost?  Perhaps  the  case  was 
not  quite  so  hopeless.  It  might  be  that  a  prince  or  other 
eminent  person  was  dangerously  ill !  "  It  must  be  a  man," 
as  no  woman  was  seen  in  this  grand  cavalcade.  But  how  ac- 
count for  those  rare  and  perfumed  flowers?  Does  a  mau 
visit  his  sick  friend  with  bouquets  of  roses  and  violets  and 
orange-blossoms?  with  rare  and  costly  southern  fruits  in 
baskets  of  gold  and  silver  ?  This  would  indeed  be  a  strange 
custom ! 

But  no!  In  this  house  dwelt  neither  prince  nor  states- 
man, only  a  woman.  How  strange  that  only  men  were  there 
to  manifest  their  sympathy!  In  this  pitiful  and  dreary 
world  a  woman  who  has  made  a  riiame  for  herself-by  her  own 
beauty  and  talent  is  never  acknowledged  by  other  women. 
Those  who  owe  their  rank  to  their  fathers  and  husbands,  are 
proud  of  this  accidental  favor  of  fate;  they  consider  them- 
selves as  the  chosen  accomplices  and  judges  of  morals  and 
virtue,  and  cast  out  from  their  circles  all  those  who  dare  to 
elevate  themselves  above  mediocrity.  In  this  house  dwelt 
an  artiste — the  worshipped  prima  donna,  the  Signora  Bar- 
barina ! 

Barbarina!  ah!  that  Avas  an  adored  and  a  hated  name. 
The  women  spoke  of  her  with  frowning  brows  and  con- 
temptuous laughter,  the  men  with  flashing  eyes  and  bound- 
less enthusiasm;  the  one  despised  and  abhorred  her,  even 
as  the  other  exalted  and  adored  her.  And  truly  both  had 
cause :  the  women  hated  her  because  she  stole  from  them  the 
eyes  and  hearts  of  their  lovers  and  husbands;  the  men  wor- 
shipped her  as  a  blossom  of  beauty,  a  fairy  wonder,  a  con- 
secrated divinity. 

These  two  parties  were  as  zealous  as  the  advocates  of 
the  white  and  red  rose.     The  women  fought  under  the  ban- 


FREDERICK    THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    191 

ner  of  the  faded,  witliered  white  rose;  the  men  gathered 
around  the  flag  of  her  glowing  sister,  the  enchanting  Bar- 
barina.  This  was  no  equal  contest,  no  doubtful  result.  The 
red  rose  must  conquer.  At  the  head  of  her  army  stood  the 
greatest  of  warriors.  The  king,  was  at  the  same  time  Bar- 
barina's  general  and  subject.  The  white  rose  must  yield, 
she  had  no  leader. 

Possibly  Elizabeth  Christine  desired  to  lead  the  army  of 
martyrs;  possibly  the  same  rage  and  scorn  swelled  in  her 
heart  which  spoiled  the  peace  of  other  women.  But  her 
modest  and  trembling  lips  betrayed  nothing  of  the  secret 
storms  of  her  bosom;  her  soft  and  gentle  smile  veiled  her 
shrouded  wishes  and  the  hopes  there  buried  in  her  heart. 
One  could  scarcely  believe  that  this  timid,  pious  queen  could 
worship  an  earthly  object,  or  yield  herself  one  moment  to  the 
bare  passion  of  hate.  Truly  Elizabeth  Christine  hated  no 
one,  not  even  Barbarina — this  woman  who  had  given  the  last 
blow  to  her  tortured  heart,  and  added  the  passion  of  jealousy 
to  her  despised  love.  Elizabeth  Christine  was  indeed  jeal- 
ous, but  not  in  the  common  way;  she  felt  no  scorn,  she  ut- 
tered no  reproach;  silent  tears  and  earnest  prayers  for 
strength  were  her  only  speech. 

The  king  had  given  her  no  occasion  to  complain  of  his 
love  for  Barbarina;  she  did  not  know  that  he  had  ever  ap- 
proached her,  even  spoken  to  her;  she  knew,  however,  with 
what  looks  and  smiles  of  rapture  he  gazed  upon  her,  and  she 
would  joyfully  have  given  her  life  for  one  such  glance  or 
smile.  That,  however,  which  was  not  known  to  Elizabeth, 
was  fully  understood  by  the  whole  court.  It  was  known  that 
more  than  once  the  Barbarina  had  supped  with  the  king  at 
the  house  of  General  Rothenberg;  it  was  known  that  the 
king,  every  time  the  Barbarina  danced,  was  behind  the  cur- 
tain, and  that  he  had  commanded  the  court  painter,  Pesne, 
to  paint  her  portrait,  life  size,  for  him. 

Was  not  this  enough  to  exalt  the  signora  in  the  eyes  of 
every  courtier  and  every  diplomatist  to  the  first  rank  of 
beauty  and  power?  Would  they  not,  indeed,  have  hastened 
to  acknowledge  her  claims,  even  had  she  not  been  the  love- 
liest and  most  enchanting  creature?  She  was  indeed  a 
queen,  »  powerfiil   pugJiantress,    Men  stniggled   for   ono 


192  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCl ;  OR, 

smile,  one  glance;  they  bowed  down  to  all  her  caprices  and 
humors ;  worship,  submission,  and  obedience  were  the  tribute 
brought  by  all.  Her  house  was  besieged  with  visits  and  peti- 
tions as  if  it  were  the  palace  of  a  fairy  queen.  Barbarina 
had  her  court  circle,  her  levees,  her  retinue.*  All  her  sub- 
jects rendered  her  a  glad  and  voluntary  service,  and  received 
no  other  compensation  than  a  gay  smile  or  friendly  word. 

All  this  splendor,  consideration,  and  worship,  of  which 
she  was  the  shining  centre,  seemed  to  make  no  impression 
upon  the  heart  of  the  proud  and  self-reliant  artiste;  she 
was  accustomed  to  it,  and  moved  on  in  silent  majesty;  her 
whole  life  had  been  a  triumphant  march.  Like  a  summer 
morning  glittering  in  the  dew  and  sunshine,  she  had  had  her 
little  griefs  and  tears,  but  they  resembled  the  dew-drops  in 
the  flower-cups,  shining  for  a  moment  like  costly  diamonds, 
then  kissed  away  by  the  sun.  Barbarina  wept  when  the 
king  separated  her  from  her  lover.  Lord  Stuart,  and  forced 
her  to  fulfil  her  contract  and  come  to  Berlin.  She  wept  no 
more.  Was  it  because  she  was  too  proud  ?  or  had  the  sun  of 
royal  favor  kissed  away  her  tears  ? 

Barbarina's  tears  had  ceased  to  flow,  but  she  smiled 
rarely.  She  had  the  grace  and  imposing  beauty  of  the  Ro- 
man, and  never  forgot  that  she  was  a  daughter  of  that  proud 
nation  who  had  ruled  the  world,  and,  even  though  disen- 
throned,  preserved  her  majesty  and  renown.  Barbarina  was 
a  glowing,  passionate  woman,  and  passion  adorns  itself  with 
flashing  eyes,  with  a  clear  and  touching  pallor  and  crimson 
lips,  but  never  with  the  innocent  smile  and  harmless  jest. 
She  was  never  heard  and  rarely  seen  to  laugh.  Laughter 
was  not  in  harmony  with  her  proud  beauty,  but  smiles  illu- 
minated and  glorified  it.  She  was  imperial  to  look  upon; 
but,  filled  with  all  sweet  charity  and  gentle  grace,  womanly 
and  tender;  with  a  full  consciousness  of  her  power,  she  was 
humble  and  yielding.  In  the  midst  of  her  humility  she  was 
proud,  and  sure  of  success  and  victory;  one  moment  she  was 
the  glowing,  ardent,  and  yielding  woman;  the  next  the 
proud,  genial,  imposing  artiste.  Such  was  Barbarina ;  an  in- 
comprehensible riddle,  unsearchable,  unfathomable  as  th? 
gea — ever  changing,  but  great  in  every  aspect. 

*  Schse}4f'r)  "  History  of  \\]^  ()perfl  md  Operft-Houses  io  Berlin, 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     193 

Barbarina  had  appeared  the  evening  before,  but  her 
dance  had  been  interrupted  by  a  sudden  indisposition  ex- 
actly at  the  moment  when  the  king  appeared  in  the  opera- 
house.  'No  one  knew  that  the  king  had  returned  from  his 
mysterious  journey  to  Silesia;  every  one  believed  him  to 
be  absent,  and  the  ballet  had  been  arranged  without  any 
reference  to  him.  Frederick  arrived  unexpectedly,  and 
changing  his  travelling-dress  hastened  to  the  opera,  no  doubt 
to  greet  the  two  queens  and  his  sisters.  Barbarina  was 
seized  with  indisposition  at  the  moment  of  the  king's  en- 
trance. She  floated  smilingly  and  airily  over  the  stage;  her 
small  feet  seemed  borne  by  the  Loves  and  Graces.  Sudden- 
ly she  faltered,  the  smile  vanished  from  her  lips,  and  the 
slight  blush  from  her  cheek,  and  with  a  cry  of  pain  she 
sank  insensible  upon  the  floor. 

The  curtain  fell,  and  an  intermission  of  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  was  announced.  The  king,  who  was  conversing  with 
the  queen-mother,  appeared  to  take  but  little  interest  in  this 
interruption,  but  Baron  Swartz  approached  and  announced 
that  Signora  Barbarina  was  ill  and  could  not  appear  again 
during  the  evening.  Frederick  gave  such  an  angry  ex- 
clamation, that  the  queen-mother  looked  up  astonished  and 
questioning.  Elizabeth  Christine  sighed  and  turned  pale. 
She  comprehended  the  emotion  of  her  husband;  guided  by 
the  instinct  of  jealousy,  she  read  the  king's  alarm  and  disap- 
pointment, which  he  tried  in  vain  to  hide  under  the  mask  of 
scorn. 

"  It  appears  to  me,"  said  the  king,  "  that  the  signora  is 
again  indulging  in  one  of  her  proud  and  sullen  moods, 
and  refuses  to  dance  because  I  have  returned.  I  will  not 
submit  to  this  caprice;  I  will  myself  command  her  to 
dance." 

He  bowed  to  the  two  queens,  stepped  behind  the  curtain, 
and  advanced  to  the  boudoir  of  the  signora.  The  door  was 
fastened  within.  The  king  stood  hesitating  for  a  moment; 
he  heard  the  sound  of  weeping  and  sobbing — the  signora  was 
in  bitter  pain  or  sorrow. 

"  She  is  truly  ill,"  said  he. 

"  She  has  cramp,"  suggested  Baron  Swartz,  who  had  fol- 
lowed the  king. 


194  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

Frederick  turned  hastily.  "  Is  that  dangerous  "  he  asked,, 
in  a  tone  which  betrayed  his  alarm  and  agitation. 

"  Xot  dangerous,  sire,  but  the  physician  who  was  with  her 
has  declared  that  absolute  quiet  was  necessary.  Will  your 
majesty  command  that  another  dancer  shall  take  her  place?  " 

"  ]!s^o,"  said  Frederick ;  "  the  pas  which  belongs  to  Bar- 
barina  shall  be  danced  by  no  other.  Salimbcrri  and  Astrea 
shall  sing  an  aria  and  the  house  be,^  dismissed.  Go  to  their 
majesties  and  say  to  them  I  pray  they  will  excuse  me;  I  only 
came  to  greet  them,  and,  being  much  fatigued  by  my  journey, 
I  will  now  retire." 

Bowing  to  the  baron,  the  king  left  the  opera-house  and 
entered  the  palace.  But  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  when  all 
others  slept,  the  soft  tones  of  his  flute  melted  on  the  air. 

Barbarina  was  ill.  For  this  reason  her  house  was  be- 
sieged; for  this  reason  every  face  was  clouded.  Her  ador- 
ers were  there  begging  to  see  her,  and  thus  find  comfort  and 
encouragement;  each  one  wished  to  prove  his  sympathy  by 
some  marked  attention.  They  hoped  that  these  glorious 
and  costly  fruits  might  win  for  them  a  smile  of  gratitude. 

The  reception-room  of  Barbarina  was  like  a  royal  con- 
servatory, only  the  life-giving  and  dazzling  sun  was  hidden 
from  view.  Barbarina  was  in  her  boudoir,  and  all  these  gal- 
lant cavaliers  waited  in  vain  for  her  appearance.  It  was 
the  hour  of  her  levee,  the  hour  when  her  door  was  open  to 
all  who  had  enjoyed  the  honor  of  being  presented  to  her. 
The  courtiers  stood  in  groups  and  conversed  in  light  whis- 
pers .over  the  on-dits  of  the  day,  and  turning  their  eyes  from 
time  to  time  to  the  portiere  of  purple  velvet  which  separated 
them  from  the  boudoir  of  the  signora ;  from  that  point  must 
the  sun  rise  to  illuminate  this  dusky  room. 

But  Barbarina  came  not.  She  lay  upon  a  white  silk 
divan,  dressed  in  the  most  ravishing  nigligee  of  white  mus- 
lin, covered  with  rare  and  costly  lace.  She  was  dreaming 
with  open  eyes,  and  arms  crossed  upon  her  breast.  Those 
flashing  eyes  were  soft  and  misty;  a  melancholy  expression 
trembled  upon  her  lips.  Barbarina  was  alone.  Why  should 
she  not  dream,  and  lay  aside  for  a  while  her  gracious  smiles 
and  fiery  glance?  Of  what  were  those  unfathomable  eyes 
dreaming?  what  signified  those  sighs  which  burst  from  her 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    I95 

full  crimson  lips  ?  Did  she  know  herself,  or  did  she  wish  to 
know?  Did  she  comprehend  the  weakness  of  her  own 
proud  heart,  or  had  she  veiled  it  from  herself,  ashamed  to 
read  what  was  written  there  ? 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  a  young  girl  entered 
— one  of  those  insignificant,  gentle,  yielding  creatures,  gen- 
erally found  amongst  the  attendants  of  an  artiste — a  tete  do, 
souffrance,  on  whom  they  exhaust  their  humor,  their  scorn, 
and  their  passion;  the  humble  companion,  kept  in  the  back- 
g'round  when  blessed  with  the  society  of  distinguished  and 
wealthy  adorers.  The  companion  of  Barbarina  did  not  suf- 
fer, however,  from  this  hard  fate.  She  was  Barbarina's  sister, 
and  had  followed  her  from  tender  love  to  the  cold  north.  The 
signora  loved  her  sister  fondly;  she  was  the  companion  of 
her  joys  and  sorrows;  she  had  no  secrets  from  her,  and  knew 
that  an  open  ear  and  judicious  counsel  were  always  to  be 
found  with  her  little  sister  Marietta. 

Barabrina  lay,  still  dreaming,  upon  the  divan.  Possibly 
she  did  not  know  that  Marietta  stood  by  her  side,  and  laid 
her  hand  upon  her  shoulder. 

"  Sorella,"  said  she,  "  get  up ;  many  gentlemen  are  in  the 
saloon,  waiting  for  you." 

"  Let  them  wait.     I  will  see  no  one  to-day." 

"  It  is  the  hour  when  you  are  accustomed  to  receive, 
Sorella,  and  if  you  do  not  come  they  wiU  think  you  are  still 
imwell." 

"Well,  let  them  think  so." 

"  They  will  not  only  think  so,  Sorella ;  they  will  say  so, 
and  make  malicious  comments." 

"What  comments?"  said  Barbarina,  raising  herself  up; 
"  what  comments,  Marietta  ?  " 

"  It  was  indeed  unfortunate  that  your  sickness  came  upon 
you  just  as  the  king  appeared,"  said  Marietta. 

Barbarina's  eyes  flashed.  "Do  you  think  they  will  put 
those  things  together  ? "  said  she.  "  They  will  say,  perhaps, 
that  Barbarina  fainted  at  the  unexpected  appearance  of  the 
king;  that  the  joy  of  seeing  him  overcame  her;  is  that  your 
meaning,  Marietta  ? " 

"  Yes,  that  is  my  meaning,"  said  Marietta,  in  a  low  tone. 

Barbarina  sprang  from  the  divan,  trembling  and  pallid. 
18 


196  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  They  will  mock  at  and  scorn  me,"  she  cried,  raising  her 
arms  to  heaven  as  if  to  call  down  the  lightning  to  her  aid; 
"  they  will  say  I  love  this  cold  king !  " 

"  They  will  say  that,  Sorella,"  replied  Marietta. 

Barbarina  seized  her  hand.  "  But  you,  sister !  you  will 
not  say  this;  you  know  that  I  have  sworn  to  hate  him  with 
an  everlasting  hatred.  You  know  that  I  have  put  an  evil 
spell  upon  him  with  my  tears;  that  I  never  can  forgive 
him  for  the  suffering  and  agony  he  prepared  for  me. 
Think,  think,  Marietta,  how  much  I  have  wept,  how 
much  I  have  endured!  My  life  was  like  a  lustrous  May 
morning,  a  fairy  tale  of  starry  splendor;  roses  and  pearls 
were  in  my  path :  he  has  obscured  my  stars,  and  changed  my 
pearls  to  tears.  Woe  to  him!  woe  to  him!  I  have  sworn  to 
hate  him  eternally,  and  Barbarina  keeps  her  oath." 

"  Yes,  you  have  sworn  to  hate  him,  sister,  but  the  world 
is  ignorant  of  your  oath  and  its  cause ;  their  eyes  are  blinded, 
and  they  strangely  mistake  your  hate  for  love.  They  see  that 
your  glance  is  clearer,  brighter,  when  the  king  is  by,  and  they 
know  not  that  it  is  hate  which  flashes  from  your  eyes;  they 
hear  that  your  voice  lightly  trembles  when  you  speak  to  him, 
they  do  not  know  that  the  hatred  in  your  heart  deprives 
you  of  self-control;  they  see  that  you  dance  with  more  en- 
chanting grace  in  the  king's  presence,  they  do  not  under- 
stand that  these  are  instruments  of  revenge — that  you  wish 
to  crush  him  by  the  mighty  power  of  genius,  grace,  and 
beauty." 

"Yes,  yes!  just  so,"  said  Barbarina,  breathing  painfully; 
"you  alone  know  me,  you  alone  read  my  heart!  I  hate,  I 
abhor  this  cold,  cruel  king,  and  he  richly  deserves  my  hate ! 
He  may  be  wise  and  great,  but  his  heart  is  ice.  It  is  true, 
he  is  handsome  and  exalted;  genius  is  marked  on  his  noble 
brow ;  his  smile  is  magical,  and  irradiates  his  face ;  his  eyes, 
those  great,  inexplicable  eyes,  are  blue  as  the  heavens  and 
unfathomable  as  the  sea.  WHen  I  look  into  them,  I  seem  to 
read  the  mysteries  of  the  great  deep,  and  the  raptures  of 
heaven.  His  voice,  when  he  pleads,  is  like  consecrated  music ; 
when  he  commands,  it  is  the  voice  of  God  in  thunder.  He 
is  great  above  all  other  men;  he  is  a  hero,  a  man.  and  a 
king!" 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     I07 

"  And  yet  you  hate  him  ?  "  said  Marietta,  with  a  mocking 
smile, 

Barbarina  trembled.  Marietta's  question  checked  her 
.glowing  enthusiasm;  it  rang  in  her  ears  like  the  name-call 
in  the  "  Somnambulist,"  and  roused  her  to  consciousness. 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  in  a  low  tone,  "  I  hate  him,  and  I  will 
ever  hate  him !  If  I  loved  him,  I  should  be  the  most  wretch- 
ed of  women — I  should  despise  and  curse  myself.  He  has  no 
heart;  he  cannot  love;  and  shame  and  dishonor  rest  upon 
the  woman  who  loves  and  is  not  beloved.  Frederick  loves 
nothing  but  his  Prussia,  his  fame,  and  his  greatness.  And 
the  world  says,  that '  the  Barbarina  loves  him.'  You  see  that 
is  impossible,  that  can  never  be.  I  would  rather  die  than 
love  this  man  without  a  heart." 

"  The  world  is  incredulous,"  said  Marietta ;  "  they  cannot 
look  into  your  heart,  and  you  must  be  silent  as  to  your 
hatred.  You  dare  not  say  that  you  fainted  yesterday  from 
scorn  and  rage  at  the  sudden  appearance  of  the  king." 

"  Think  you  they  will  believe  that  joy  overcame  me  ? " 
cried  Barbarina,  in  wild  frenzy.  "  They  shall  not  believe  it ; 
it  shall  not  be !  "  She  sprang  like  an  enraged  lioness  and 
grasped  a  little  stiletto  which  lay  upon  her  toilet-table,  and 
which  she  had  brought  as  a  relic  from  her  beautiful  father- 
land. "  I  will  not  be  mocked  at  and  despised,"  cried  she, 
proudly,  dashing  ofF  her  gold-embroidered  white  satin  slip- 
per, and  raising  her  foot. 

"  Oh !  Barbarina,  what  will  you  do  ? "  cried  Marietta,  as 
she  saw  her  take  up  the  stiletto. 

"  This,"  said  she,  significantly,  sticking  the  point  of  the 
stiletto  in  the  sole  of  her  foot;  the  blood  gushed  out  and 
covered  her  stocking  with  blood. 

Marietta  uttered  a  cry  of  terror,  and  rushed  to  her  sister, 
but  Barbarina  waved  her  away;  the  wound  and  the  flow  of 
blood  had  brought  relief  to  her  wild  nature;  she  was  calm, 
and  a  ravishing  smile  disclosed  two  ^ows  of  pearly  teeth. 

"  Be  still,  Marietta,"  said  she,  in  a  commanding  tone, 
"  the  wound  is  ,  Dt  deep,  not  dangerous,  but  deep  enough  to 
confirm  my  statement  when  I  declare  that,  while  dancing 
last  evening,  I  wounded  my  foot  upon  a  piece  of  glass  from 
a  broken  lamp." 


198  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  Ah !  now  I  understand  you,  you  proud  sister,"  cried 
Marietta,  looking  up  gayly.  "  You  would  thus  account  for 
your  swoon  of  yesterday  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  now  give  me  my  slipper,  and  allow  me  to  take 
your  arm;  we  will  go  into  the  saloon." 

"  With  your  bleeding  foot,  with  this  open  wound  ? " 
'        "  Yes,  with  my  bleeding  foot ;  however,  we  had  better 
check  the  flow  of  blood  a  little." 

The  cavaliers  who  waited  for  the  signora  became  ever 
sadder  and  more  thoughtful.  Barbarina  must  be  indeed  ill, 
if  she  allowed  her  admirers  to  wait  so  long,  for  she  was  above 
all  the  small  coquetries  of  women;  they  would  not  go,  how- 
ever, till  they  had  news  of  her,  till  they  had  seen  her  sister. 

At  last  their  patience  was  rewarded;  the  portiere  was 
drawn  back,  and  Barbarina  appeared,  leaning  upon  the  arm 
of  her  sister.  She  was  pale  and  evidently  suflfering.  She 
walked  slowly  through  the  saloon,  speaking  here  and  there 
to  the  cavaliers,  and  conversing  in  the  gay,  gracious,  and 
piquant  manner  in  which  she  excelled.  Suddenly,  in  the 
midst  of  one  of  these  merry  interchanges  of  thought,  in 
which  one  speaks  of  every  thing  or  nothing,  Barbarina  ut- 
tered a  cry  of  pain  and  sank  upon  the  sofa. 

"  I  believe,  I  fear  that  my  foot  is  bleeding  again,"  she 
cried.  She  slightly  raised  her  robe,  and  lifted  up  her  foot, 
that  small  object  of  wonder  and  rapture  to  all  the  lands  of 
Europe.  Truly  her  white  satin  slipper  was  crimson,  and 
blood  was  flowing  freely  from  it. 

A  cry  of  horror  sounded  from  every  lip.  The  gentlemen 
surrounded  Barbarina,  who  lay  pale  as  death  upon  the  sofa, 
while  Marietta  knelt  before  her,  and  wrapped  her  foot  in 
her  handkerchief.  This  was  a  striking  scene.  A  saloon 
furnished  with  princely  splendor,  and  odorous  with  the  rarest 
flowers;  a  group  of  cavaliers  iu  i;*.^lr  gold-embroidered  coats 
and  uniforms,  glittering  with  crosses  and  odors ;  the  signora 
lying  upon  the  divan  in  x  charming  negligee,  with  her  bleed- 
ing foot  resting  upon  the  lap  of  her  sister. 

"  You  are  wounded,  signora,  you  bleed !  "  oned  the  young 
Prince  of  Wiirtemberg,  with  such  an  expression  of  horror, 
you  would  have  thought  he  expected  the  instant  death  of  the 
Barbarina. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     199 

The  lovely  Italian  looked  up  iu  seeming  surprise.  "  Did 
not  your  highness  know^that  I  was  wounded?  I  thought 
you  were  a  witness  to  my  accident  yesterday  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  was  at  the  opera-house,  as  were  all  these 
gentlemen;  but  what  has  that  to  do  with  your  bleeding 
foot?" 

"  A  curious  question,  indeed !  You  did  not,  then,  under- 
stand the  cause  of  my  swooning  yesterday?  I  will  explain. 
I  felt  a  severe  pain  in  the  sole  of  my  foot,  which  passed  like* 
an  electric  shock  through  my  frame,  and  I  became  insensible. 
While  unconscious,  my  blood,  of  course,  ceased  to  flow,  and 
the  physician  did  not  discover  the  cause  of  my  sudden  illness. 
This  morning,  in  attempting  to  walk,  I  found  the  wound." 

"  My  God,  what  a  misfortune,  what  an  irreparable  blow !  " 
cried  the  cavaliers  with  one  voice ;  "  we  can  never  again 
hope  to  see  our  enchanting  dancer." 

"  Compose  yourselves,  gentlemen,"  cried  Barbarina,  smil- 
ing, "  my  confinement  will  be  of  short  duration,  and  will 
have  no  evil  consequences.  I  stepped  upon  a  piece  of  glass 
which  had  fallen  upon  the  boards,  and  piercing  the  slipper 
ent^ed  my  foot;  the  wound  is  not  deep;  it  is  a  slight  cut, 
and  I  shall  be  restored  in  a  few  days." 

"  And  now,"  said  Barbarina,  with  a  triumphant  smile,  as 
she  was  once  more  alone  with  her-  sister,  "  no  one  will  mock 
at  me  and  make  malicious  commi^nts  upon  my  fainting.  In 
an  hour  the  whole  city  will  hear  this  history,  and  I  hope  it 
may  reach  the  ears  of  the  king." 

"  He  will  not  believe  it,"  said  Marietta,  shrugging  her 
shoulders ;  "  he  sent  immediately  for  your  physician  and 
questioned  him  closely  as  to  your  sudden  indisposition  in  the 
theatre.  I  had  just  left  your  boudoir  to  get  you  a  glass  of 
water,  and  when  I  returned  I  found  the  king  standing  before 
your  door  and  listening  to  your  groans." 

A  wondrous  expression  of  light  and  peace  shone  in  her 
great  black  eyes.  "  The  king  was  then  behind  the  curtains, 
he  stood  before  my  door,  he  wished  to  speak  to  me,  and  you 
tell  me  this  now,  only  now,  when  you  might  have  known — " 
Barbarina  paused,  and  turned  away  her  blushing  face. 

"  Well,  I  might  have  known  that  the  king,  whom  you  hate 


200  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

so  bitterly,  had  waited  in  vain  at  your  door,  had  been  turned 
away  by  the  proud  dancer  as  a  cQfnmon  man;  this  was,  in- 
deed, a  triumph  of  revenge,"  said  Marietta,  smiling. 

"I  did  not  turn  him  away,"  said  Barbarina,  with  em- 
barrassment. 

"  No !  you  drew  your  bolt  on  the  inside,  nothing  more." 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE  STUDIO. 

Barbarina  was  right ;  the  wound  in  her  foot  was  not  dan- 
gerous. She  was  ordered  to  be  quiet  for  some  days,  and  give 
up  dancing.  The  physician  to  whom  she  showed  her  foot, 
and  declared  that  she  had  only  just  discovered  the  cause  of 
her  sudden  swoon,  examined  the  wound  with  an  incredulous 
smile,  and  asked  to  see  the  shoe,  the  sole  of  which  must  also 
be  necessarily  cut,  he  said;  in  this  way  only  could  he  t*!l  if 
the  wound  had  been  inflicted  by  a  piece  of  glass  or  nail,  and 
know  the  size  and  sharpness  of  the  instrument.  Barbarina 
blushed,  and  ordered  Marietta  to  bring  the  shoe;  she  re- 
turned immediately  with  a  slipper,  showing  a  sharp  cut  in 
the  sole.  The  physician  ^examined  it  silently,  and  then 
declared  that  it  was  a  piece  of  glass  which  had  caused  the 
fainting  of  the  signora;  he  ordered  cooling  applications  and 
perfect  quiet,  and  promised  restoration  in  a  few  days. 

The  king  had  commanded  the  physician  to  come  to  him 
immediately  after  his  visit  to  Barbarina.  He  was  an- 
nounced, and  as  he  entered,  Frederick  advanced  to  meet  him. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  is  the  wound  dangerous  ?  will  the 
signora  be  obliged  to  give  up  the  stage  ? " 

"  Ah,  surely  your  majesty  cannot  believe  that  the  Bar- 
barina has  given  herself  a  wound  which  will  destroy  her 
fame  and  fortune !  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Frederick,  impatiently ; 
"do  not  speak  in  riddles." 

"  I  repeat,  your  majesty,  the  signora  would  not  intention- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     201 

ally  have  wounded  her  foot  seriously,  and  thereby  destroyed 
her  art." 

"Do  you  believe  that  she  wounded  herself  voluntarily?  " 

"  I  am  convinced  of  it,  sire.  The  signora  declares  that 
she  stepped  upon  a  piece  of  glass.  I  desired  to  see  the  slip- 
per; Marietta  brought  me  one,  in  the  sole  of  which  I  dis- 
covered a  cut,  but  it  did  not  correspond  a  all  with  the 
wound  in  the  foot,  and  had  been  evidently  just  i^ade  with 
a  knife.  Certainly  Barbarina  was  not  wounded  while  she 
wore  that  shoe;  moreover,  I  affirm  that  the  ^  ound  was  not 
inflicted  by  a  piece  of  glass  or  a  nail,  but  by  a  stiletto;  the 
wound  is  three-sided;  I  am  confident  she  wounded  herself 
with  a  stiletto  I  saw  in  her  room." 

The  king's  face  grew  dark  while  the  physician  spoke ;  he 
pressed  his  lips  together:  this  was  ever  a  sign  that  a  storm 
was  raging  in  his  breast  which  he  wished  to  control. 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  ?  " 

"  That  is  all,  sire." 

"  Good !  You  will  visit  the  signora  to-morrow,  and  bring 
me  news  of  her." 

The  king  was  alone,  and  pacing  his  room  nervously.  It 
was  in  vain  that  Biche,  his  favorite  hound,  raised  herself 
up  and  drew  near  to  him.  The  wise  little  animal  seemed,  in- 
deed, to  understand  the  sadness  of  her  master,  and  looked 
up  at  him  with  sorrowful  and  sympathetic  eyes.  Once 
Frederick  murmured  half  aloud :  "  She  has  sworn  to  hate  me, 
and  she  keeps  her  oath."  After  long  thought,  he  seemed  to 
be  resolved,  and  drew  near  to  the  door;  he  opened  it  and 
stood  a  moment  on  the  threshold,  then  closed  it  again,  and 
said :  "  No !  I  dare  not  do  that.  I  dare  not  do  what  any  other 
man  might  do  in  my  place;  not  I — I  am  a  king.  Alas!  men 
think  it  is  a  light  matter  to  be  a  king ;  that  the  croAvn  brings 
no  care,  no  weight  to  the  brow  and  the  heart.  Our  hearts' 
blood  is  often  the  lime  with  which  our  crowns  are  secured.'' 
He  sighed  deeply,  then  stood  up  and  shook  himself  like  a 
lion,  when,  after  a  long  repose,  he  rouses  himself  to  new  life 
and  action.  "  Oh !  I  am  sentimental,"  he  said,  with  a  sad 
smile.  "  I  doubt  if  a  king  has  a  right  to  dream.  Away, 
then,  with  sentiments  and  sighs !  Truly,  what  would  Maria 
Theresa  say  if  she  knew  that  the  King  of  Prussia  was  a 


202  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

sentimentalist,  and  sighed  and  loved  like  a  young  maiden? 
Would  she  not  think  she  had  Silesia  again  in  her  dress- 
pocket  ? "  ^ 

While  the  king  struggled  with  his  passion,  Barbarina  had 
a  far  more  dangerous  enemy  to  contend  with.  Sentimental- 
ity is  veiled  in  melancholy,  in  softened  light  and  faded  tints ; 
vbut  ennui  has  no  eye,  nor  mind,  nor  heart  for  any  thing. 
It  is  a  fearful  enemy!  Barbarina  was  weary,  oh,  so  weary! 
Was  it  perhaps  impatience  to  appear  again  upon  the  stage 
which  made  the  hours  so  leaden,  so  long  drawn  out?  She 
lay  the  whole  day  stretched  out  upon  her  sofa,  her  eyes  wide 
open,  silent,  and  sighing,  not  responding  to  Marietta's  loving 
words  by  a  glance,  or  a  movement  of  the  eyelash.  Marietta 
proposed  to  assemble  her  friends,  but  she  affirmed  that  so- 
ciety was  more  wearisome  than  solitude. 

At  the  end  of  three  days,  Barbarina  sprang  from  her 
sofa  and  tried  to  walk.  "  It  gives  me  no  pain,"  said  she, 
walking  through  the  room. 

"  Yes,  I  remember.  Arias  said  the  same  as  she  handed  the 
dagger  to  her  beloved,"  replied  Marietta. 

"  But  I  have  no  beloved,"  said  Barbarina ;  "  no  one  loves 
me,  no  one  understands  this  poor,  glowing,  agonized  heart." 
As  she  said  this,  a  flood  of  tears  gushed  from  her  eyes,  and 
her  form  trembled  with  a  storn  of  passion. 

"  Ah,  Sorella,  how  can  you  say  that — ^you  who  are  go 
much  loved,  so  highly  prized  ?  " 

Barbarina  smiled  contemptuously,  and  shook  her  head. 
"  Do  you  call  that  love  ?  these  empty  words,  this  everlasting, 
unmeaning  praise ;  this  rapture  about  my  beauty,  my  grace, 
and  my  skill,  is  this  worship  ?  Go,  go.  Marietta,  you  know  it 
is  not  love,  it  is  not  worship.  They  amuse  themselves  with 
a  rare  and  foreign  flower,  which  is  only  beautiful  because  it 
has  been  dearly  paid  for;  which  is  only  wondered  at  while  it 
is  rare  and  strange.  You  know,  not  one  of  these  men  loves 
me  for  myself;  they  think  only  of  my  outward  appearance. 
I  am  never  more  solitary  than  when  they  surround  me,  never 
feel  so  little  beloved  as  when  they  swear  that  they  love  me 
boundlessly.  O  my  God!  must  I  shroud  my  heart,  must  I 
bury  it  under  the  snows  of  this  cold  north  ?  O  God,  give  me 
a  heart  for  my  heart,  that  can  love  as  Barbarina  loves !  " 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    203 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  her  tears  flowed 
freely ;  she  trembled  and  bowed  from  side  to  side,  like  a  lily 
in  a  storm. 

Marietta  drew  near,  and  laid  her  head  upon  her  sister's 
shoulder;  she  did  not  try  to  comfort  her:  she  knew  there 
were  griefs  to  which  w^rds  of  consolation  were  exasperation; 
she  knew  that  passion  must  exhaust  itself  before  it  could  be 
soothed.  She  comprehended  the  nobility  and  energy  of 
Barbarina's  nature ;  those  bursts  of  tears  were  like  clouds  in 
the  tropics;  the  storm  must  break,  and  then  the  sun  would 
shine  more  gloriously.  Marietta  was  right.  In  a  short 
time  her  sister  withdrew  her  hands  from  her  face ;  her  tears 
were  quenched,  and  her  e^es  had  their  usual  lustre. 

"  I  am  mad,"  she  cried,  "  worse  than  mad !  I  ask  of  the 
north  our  southern  blossoms.  I  demand  that  their  ice  shall 
become  fire.  Has  not  a  landscape  of  snow  and  ice  its  grand- 
eur and  beauty — ^yes,  its  terrible  beauty  when  inhabited  by 
bears  and  wolves  ?  " 

"  But  woe  betide  us,  when  we  meet  these  monsters ! " 
said  Marietta,  entering  readily  into  her  sister's  jest. 

"  Why  woe  betide  us  ?  Every  danger  and  every  monster 
can  be  overcome,  if  looked  firmly  in  the  face,  but  not  too 
long,  Marietta,  not  till  your  own  eye  trembles.  IN'ow,  sister, 
enough  oi  this;  the  rain  is  over,  the  sun  shall  shine.  I  am 
no  longer  ill,  and  will  not  be  laid  aside  like  a  broken  play- 
thing. I  will  be  soimd  and  healthy ;  I  will  flap  my  wings  and 
float  once  more  over  the  gay  world." 

"  Do  you  know,  Sorella,  that  the  higher  you  fly,  the 
nearer  you  are  to  heaven  ?  ' 

"  I  will  soar,  but  think  not,  that  like  Icarus  I  will  fasten 
my  wings  with  wax.  No,  I  am  wiser,  I  will  fly  with  my  feet ; 
the  sun  has  no  power  over  them:  they  are  indeed  two  suns. 
They  warm  the  coldest  heart ;  they  set  the  icy  blood  in  mo- 
tion, they  almost  bring  the  dead  to  life.  You  see,  sister,  I 
have  adopted  the  style  of  speech  of  my  adorers;  none  of 
them  being  present,  I  will  worship  and  exalt  myself." 

Barbarina  said  all  this  merrily,  but  Marietta  felt  this 
gayety  was  not  natural. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  have  determined  upon?"  said 
Barbarina,  turning  away,  so  that  her  face  might  not  be  seen ; 


204  BERLIN  AXD  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  as  I  cannot  dance  either  to-day  or  to-morrow,  I  will  find 
some  other  mode  of  employing  my  time.  I  will  go  to  Pesne 
and  sit  for  my  portrait." 

She  had  turned  away,  but  Marietta  saw  that  her  throat 
was  suffused  with  a  soft  flush. 

"  Will  you  drive  to  the  palace  ?  "  said  Marietta. 

"  Not  to  the  palace,  but  to  Pesne." 

"  Pesne's  studio  is  now  in  the  palace ;  the  king  appointed 
him  rooms  there." 

"  Well,  then,  I  must  sit  to  him  in  the  palace." 

"  This,  however,  will  be  disagreeable  to  you ;  you  abhor 
the  king,  and  it  will  be  painful  to  be  under  the  same  roof. 
You  perhaps  suppose  the  king  to  be  in  Potsdam :  he  is  now 
in  Berlin." 

Barbarina  turned  suddenly,  and  throwing  her  arms 
around  Marietta's  neck,  she  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  lips,  and 
whispered :  "  I  know  it.  Marietta,  but  I  must  go." 

The  sisters  went  therefore  to  the  new  studio  of  the 
painter  Pesne,  which  was  in  the  royal  palace.  The  king  took 
great  pleasure  in  the  growth  and  development  of  works  of 
art.  While  Pesne  was  engaged  on  his  great  picture  of  Diana 
and  her  ^Nymphs,  the  king  often  visited  his  studio  and 
watched  him  at  his  work.  He  had  closely  examined  the 
sketch  of  the  portrait  of  Barbarina,  and,  on  his  return  from 
Silesia,  commanded  Pesne  to  arrange  a  studio  in  the  castle, 
as  he  wished  to  be  near  him. 

Barbarina  sprang  like  a  gazelle  up  the  steps;  her  foot 
was  not  painful,  or  she  was  unconscious  of  it.  She  was  im- 
patient, and  would  scarcely  wait  to  be  announced  before  en- 
tering the  room.  Pesne  was  there,  and  welcomed  the  signora 
joyfully.     Barbarina  looked  about  in  vain  for  her  portrait. 

"  Has  misfortune  overtaken  the  portrait  as  well  as  the 
original  ?  "  she  said,  smiling. 

"  Xot  so,  signora,"  said  Pesne ;  "  the  portrait  excites  as 
great  a  ficror  as  the  original — only,  though,  because  it  is  a 
copy." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  I  mean,  that  his  majesty  is  so  enraptured  with  the  copy, 
that  since  yesterday  it  has  been  placed  in  his  stu"dy,  although 
I  -protested  against  it,  the  picture  not  being  finished.     The 


FREDERICK  THE    GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIEXDS.    205 

king,  however,  persisted;  he  said  he  wished  to  show  the 
portrait  to  his  friends,  and  consult  with  them  as  to  its  de- 
fects." 

Never,  in  her  most  brilliant  role,  was  Barbarina  so  beauti- 
ful as  at  this  moment :  her  countenance  glowed  with  rapture ; 
her  happy  smile  and  glance  would  have  made  the  homeliest 
face  handsome. 

"  Then  I  have  come  in  vain,"  she  said,  breathing  quickly ; 
"  you  can  make  no  use  of  me  to-day  ? " 

"  No,  no,  signora !  your  face  is  a  star  seldom  seen  in  my 
heaven,  and  I  must  grasp  the  opportunity — have  the  kind- 
ness to  wait;  I  will  hasten  to  the  king  and  return  with  the 
picture." 

Without  giving  Barbarina  time  to  answer,  he  left  the 
room.  Why  did  her  heart  beat  so  quickly?  Why  were  her 
cheeks  suffused  with  crimson?  Why  were  her  eyes  fixed  so 
nervously  upon  the  door.  Steps  were  heard  in  the  adjoining 
room.  Barbarina  pressed  her  hands  upon  her  heart :  she  was 
greatly  agitated.  The  door  opened,  and  Pesne  returned, 
alone  and  without  the  picture. 

"  Signora,"  said  he,  "  the  king  wishes  that  the  sitting 
should  take  place  in  his  rooms;  his  majesty  will  be  kind 
enough  to  make  suggestions  and  call  my  attention  to  some 
faults.  I  will  get  my  palette  and  brush,  and,  if  agreeable  to 
you,  we  will  go  at  once." 

Barbarina  gave  no  reply,  and  became  deadly  pale,  as  she 
walked  through  the  king's  rooms;  her  steps  were  uncertain 
and  faltering,  and  she  was  forced  to  lean  upon  Pesne's  arm; 
she  declared  that  her  foot  was  painful,  and  he  perhaps  be- 
lieved her. 

They  reached  at  last  the  room  in  which  the  portrait  was 
placed.  There  were  two  doors  to  this  room :  the  one  through 
which  they  had  entered,  and  another  which  led  to  the  study 
of  the  king.  This  door  was  closed,  and  Barbarina  found 
herself  alone  with  the  painter. 

"  The  king  has  yet  some  audiences  to  give ;  he  com- 
manded jne  to  commence  my  work.  Ar  soon  as  he  is  at 
liberty,  he  will  join  us." 

"  Let  us  begin,  then,"  said  Barbarina,  seating  herself. 
"You  must  allow  me  to-day  to  be  seated.     I  think  it  can 


206  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OK, 

make  no  difference  to  you,  as  you  are  at  present  occupied 
with  my  face  and  not  with  my  figure." 

Pesne  declared,  however,  that  this  attitude  gave  an  en- 
tirely different  expression  and  bearing  to  the  countenance. 
Barbarina  must,  therefore,  in  spite  of  the  pain  in  her  foot, 
endeavor  to  stand.  She  appeared  now  to  feel  no  pain;  she 
smiled  so  happily,  she  spoke  so  joyously,  that  Pesne,  while 
gazing  at  her  animated,  enchanting,  lovely  face,  forgot  that 
he  was  there  to  paint,  and  not  to  wonder.  Suddenly  her 
smile  vanished,  and  she  interrupted  herself  in  the  midst  of 
a  gay  remark.-  She  had  heard  the  door  behind  her  lightly 
opened;  she  knew,  by  the  stormy  beating  of  her  heart,  that 
she  was  no  longer  alone  with  the  painter;  she  had  not  the 
courage  or  strength  to  turn;  she  was  silent,  immovable,  and 
stared  straight  at  Pesne,  who  painted  on  quietly.  The  king 
had  motioned  him  not  to  betray  him. 

Pesne  painted  on,  from  time  to  time  asked  Barbarina  the 
most  innocent  and  simple  questions,  which  she  answered  con- 
fusedly. Perhaps  she  was  mistaken;  possibly  she  was  still 
alone  with  the  painter.  But  no,  that  was  impossible,  it 
seemed  to  her  that  a  stream  of  heavenly  light  irradiated  the 
room;  she  did  not  see  the  king,  but  she  felt  his  glance;  she 
felt  that  he  was  behind  her,  that  he  was  watching  her,  al- 
though no  movement,  no  word  of  his  betrayed  him. 

"  I  will  not  move,  I  will  not  turn,  but  I  cannot  endure 
this,  I  shall  fall  dead  to  the  earth." 

But  now  she  was  forced  to  turn;  the  king  called  her 
name,  and  greeted  her  with  a  few  friendly  words.  She 
bowed  and  looked  up  timidly.  How  cold,  indifferent,  and 
devoid  of  interest  was  his  glance,  and  he  had  not  seen  her 
for  weeks,  and  she  had  been  ill  and  suffering !  And  now,  she 
felt  again  that  she  hated  him  bitterly,  and  that  it  was  the 
power  of  this  passion  which  overcame  her  when  she  saw 
the  king  so  unexpectedly.  She  felt,  however,  that  every 
tone  of  his  voice  was  like  heavenly  music  to  her  ear,  that 
every  word  he  uttered  moved  her  heart  as  the  soft  wind 
ruflfles  the  sea. 

The  king  spoke  of  her  portrait ;  he  said  he  had  made  it  his 
study  and  sought  for  its  faults  and  defects,  as  others  sought 
for  its  advantages  and  beauties. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    207 

•'  I  tremble,  then,  before  the  judgment  of  your  majesty," 
said  Pesne. 

"  I  must  confess  you  hare  some  cause  to  fear,"  said  the 
king.  "  I  have  not  looked  at  the  picture  with  the  eye  ©f  a 
lover,  but  with  that  of  a  critic;  such  eyes  look  sharply,  and 
would  see  spots  in  the  sim;  no  criticism,  however,  can  pre- 
vent the  sun  from  shining  and  remaining  always  a  sun,  and 
my  fault-finding  cannot  prevent  your  portrait  from  being  a 
beautiful  picture,  surpassed  only  by  the  original." 

"  Perhaps,  sire,  I  am  myself  one  of  the  spots  in  the  sun, 
and  it  may  be  that  I  grow  dark." 

"  You  see,  signora,  how  little  I  understand  the  art  of 
flattery;  even  my  best  intended  compliments  can  be  readily 
changed  into  their  opposites.  Allow  me,  then,  to  speak  the 
simple,  unadorned  truth.  You  are  more  beautiful  than  your 
picture,  and  yet  I  wonder  at  the  genius  of  Pesne,  which  has 
enabled  him  to  represent  so  much  of  your  rare  loveliness, 
even  as  I  wonder  at  the  poet  who  has  the  power  to  describe 
the  calm  beauty  of  a  sunny  spring  morning." 

"  That  would  be  less  difficult  than  to  paint  the  signora's 
portrait,"  said  Pesne ;  "  a  spring  morning  is  still,  it  does  not 
escape  from  you,  it  does  not  change  position'  and  expression 
every  moment." 

Frederick  smiled.  "  It  would  be  truly  difficult  to  hold 
the  butterfly  and  force  it  to  be  still  without  brushing  the 
down  from  its  beautiful  wings.  But,  paint  now,  Pesne,  I 
will  seat  myself  behind  your  chair  and  look  on." 

Pesr(8^  seized  his  palette  and  brush,  and  began  to  paint. 
Barbarina  assmned  the  light,  gracious,  and  graceful  attitude, 
which  the  artist  has  preserved  for  us  in  her  beautiful  por- 
trait. She  was,  indeed,  indescribably  lovely;  her  rounded 
arms,  her  taper  fingers,  which  slightly  raised  the  fleecy  robe 
and  exposed  the  fairy  foot,  the  small  aristocratic  head,  slight- 
ly inclined  to  one  side,  the  flashing  eyes,  the  sweet,  attractive 
smile,  were  irresistible ;  every  one  admired,  and  every  glance 
betrayed  admiration. 

The  face  of  the  king  only  betrayed  nothing ;  he  was  cold, 
quiet,  indifferent.  Barbarina  felt  the  blood  mount  to  her 
cheek,  and  then  retreat  to  her  heart;  she  felt  that  it  was 
impossible  for  her  to  preserve  her  self-control;  she  could 


208  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

not  bear  this  cruel  comparison  of  the  portrait  and  the 
original,  but  she  swore  to  herself  that  the  king  should  not 
have  the  triumph  of  seeing  her  once  more  sink  insensible  at 
his- feet;  his  proud,  cold  heart  should  not  witness  the  out- 
break of  her  scorn  and  wounded  vanity.  But  her  body  was 
less  strong  than  her  spirit — her  foot  gave  way,  she  tottered, 
and  turned  deadly  pale. 

The  king  sprang  forward,  and  asked  in  a  sympathetic  and 
trembling  voice  why  she  was  so  pale;  he  himself  placed  a 
chair  for  her,  and  besought  her  to  rest.  She  thanked  him 
with  a  soft  smile,  and  declared  she  had  better  return  home. 
Would  the  king  allow  her  to  withdraw?  A  cloud  passed 
over  Frederick's  face;  a  dark,  stern  glance  rested  upon  Bar- 
barina. 

"  K'o !  "  said  he,  almost  harshly ;  "  you  must  remain  here, 
we  have  business  with  each  other.  Swartz  has  brought  me 
your  contract  to  sign;  it  requires  some  changes,  and  I 
should  have  sent  for  you  if  accident  had  not  brought  you 
here." 

"  Your  majesty  can  command  me,"  said  Barbarina. 

"  We  have  business  and  contracts  to  consider,"  said  the 
king  roughly,  ""S&d  we  will  speak  of  them  alone.  Go,  Pesne, 
and  say  to  Swartz  I  await  him." 

Frederick  liodded  to  the  painter,  and,  seizing  Barbarina's 
hand,  led  her  into  the  adjoining  room,  his  Tusculum,  never 
before  profaned  by  a  woman's  foot;  open  only  to  the  king's 
dearest,  most  trusted  friends. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  CONFESSION. 

Barbarina  entered  this  room  with  peculiar  feelings ;  her 
heart  trembled,  her  pulses  beat  quickly.  She,  whose  glance 
was  usually  so  proud,  so  victorious,  looked  up  now  timidly, 
almost  fearfully,  to  the  king.  He  had  never  appeared  to  her 
so  handsome,  so  imposing  as  in  this  moment.    Silently  she 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    209 

took  her  place  upon  the  divan  to  which  he  led  her.  Frederick 
seated  himself  directly  in  front  of  her. 

"  This  is  the  second  time,"  said  the  king,  with  a  smile, 
"  the  second  time,  signora,  that  I  have  had  the  honor  to  be 
alone  with  you.  On  the  first  occasion  you  swore  to  me  that 
you  would  hate  the  King  of  Prussia  with  an  everlasting 
hatred."  , 

"  I  said  that  to  your  majesty  when  I  did  not  recognize 
you,"  said  Barbarina. 

"  Had  you  known  me,  signora,  you  would  surely  not  have 
spoken  so  frankly.  Unhappily,  the  world  has  silently  re- 
solved never  to  speak  the  truth  to  kings.  You  avowed  your 
resolution,  therefore,  at  that  time,  because  you  did  not  know 
you  were  speaking  to  the  king.  Oh,  signora,  I  have  not  for- 
gotten your  words.  I  know  that  you  pray  to  God  every  day ; 
not  for  your  own  happiness,  as  all  chance  of  that  has  been 
destroyed  by  this  cruel  king;  but  for  revenge  on  this  man, 
who  has  no  heart,  and  treads  the  hearts  of  other  men  under 
his  feet." 

"  Your  majesty  is  cruel,"  whispered  Barbarina. 

"  Cruel !  why  ?  I  only  repeat  your  words.  Cruel,  be- 
cause I  cannot  forget !  The  words  of  Barbarina  cannot  be 
forgotten.     In  that  respect  at  least  I  am  like  other  men." 

"  And  in  that  respect  should  your  majesty  the  least  re- 
semble them.  The  little  windspiel  may  revenge  its  injuries, 
but  the  eagle  forgives,  and  soars  aloft  so  high  in  the  heavens 
that  the  poor  offender  is  no  longer  seen  and  soon  forgot- 
ten. Your  majesty  is  like  the  eagle,  why  can  you  not  also 
forget?" 

"  I  cannot  and  I  will  not !  I  remind  you  of  that  hour,  be- 
cause I  wish  to  ask  now  for  the  same  frankness  of  speech. 
I  wish  to  hear  the  truth  once  more  from  those  proud  lips. 
Barbarina,  will  you  tell  me  the  truth  ?  " 

"  Yes,  on  condition  that  your  majesty  promises  to  forget 
the  past." 

"  I  promise  not  to  remind  you  of  it." 

"  I  thank  your  majesty ;  I  will  speak  the  truth." 

"  You  swear  it  ? " 

"  I  swear  it." 

"  Well,  then,  why  did  you  wound  your  foot  ?  " 


^10  feERLlN  AND  SANS-SOUCI  ;  OE, 

Barbarina  trembled  and  was  silent;  she  had  not  the 
courage  to  raise  her  eyes  from  the  floor. 

"  The  truth !  "  said  the  king,  imperiously. 

"  The  truth,"  repeated  Barbarina,  resolved,  and  she  raised 
her  flashing  eyes  to  the  king;  "I  will  speak  the  truth.  I 
wounded  my  foot,  because — " 

"  Because,"  said  the  king,  interrupting  her  fiercely,  "  be- 
cause you  knew  it  was  a  happiness,  a  life's  joy  to  the  poor, 
lonely,  wearied  king  to  see  you  dance ;  because  you  felt  that 
your  appearance  was  to  him  as  the  first  golden  rays  of  the 
sun  to  one  who  has  been  buried  alive,  and  who  bursts  the 
bonds  of  the  dark  grave.  You  hate  me  so  unrelentingly, 
that  even  on  the  evening  of  my  return  from  an  exhausting 
and  dangerous  journey,  you  cruelly  resolved  to  disappoint 
me.  I  hastened  to  the  theatre  to  see  you,  Barbarina,  you, 
you  alone ;  but  your  cruel  and  revengeful  heart  was  without 
pity.  You  thought  of  nothing  but  your  pride,  and  rejoiced 
in  the  power  to  grieve  a  king,  at  the  sound  of  whose  voice 
thousands  tremble.  Your  smiles  vanished,  your  enchanting 
gayety  was  suppressed,  and  you  seemed  to  become  insensible. 
With  the  art  of  a  tragedian,  you  assumed  a  sudden  illness, 
resolved  that  the  hated  king  should  not  see  you  dance.  Ah ! 
Barbarina,  that  was  a  small,  a  pitiful  rdle !  leave  such  arts 
to  the  chambermaids  of  the  stage.  You  are  refined  in  your 
wickedness;  you  are  inexorable  in  your  hate.  Not  satisfied 
with  this  pretended  swoon,  the  next  evening  you  wounded 
yourself;  you  were  proud  to  suffer,  in  order  to  revenge  your- 
self upon  me.  You  knew  that  a  swoon  must  pass  away,  but 
a  wounded  foot  is  a  grave  accident;  its  consequences  might 
be  serious.  The  king  had  returned  to  Berlin,  and  had  only 
a  few  days  to  refresh  himself,  after  the  cares  and  exhaustions 
of  a  dangerous  journey;  after  his  departure  you  would  be 
able  to  dance  again.  Ah!  signora,  you  are  a  true  daughter 
of  Italy;  you  understand  how  to  hate,  and  your  thirst  for 
vengeance  is  unquenchable!  Well,  I  give  you  joy!  I  will 
fill  your  heart  with  rapture.  You  have  sworn  to  hate  me; 
you  pray  to  God  to  revenge  you  upon  the  King  of  Prussia 
who  has  trampled  your  heart  under  his  feet.  Now,  then, 
Barbarina,  triumph!  you  are  revenged.  The  king  has  a 
heart,  and  you  have  wounded  it  mortally !  " 


MEDERICK  THE   GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    211 

Completely  unmanned,  the  king  sprang  to  his  feet,  and 
stepped  to  the  window,  wishing  to  conceal  his  emotion  from 
Barbarina.  Suddenly  he  felt  his  shoulder  lightly  touched, 
and  turning,  he  saw  Barbarina  before  him,  more  proud,  more 
beautiful,  more  queenly  than  he  had  ever  seen  her;  energy 
and  high  resolve  spoke  in  her  face  and  in  her  flashing  eyes. 

"  Sire,"  she  said,  in  a  full,  mellow  voice,  which  slightly  , 
trembled  from  strong  emotion — "  sire,"  she  repeated,  trying  i 
to  veil  her  agitation  by  outward  calm,  "  I  have  sworn  in  this 
hour  to  speak  the  truth;  I  will  fulfil  my  vow.  I  will  speak 
the  truth,  though  you  may  scorn  and  despise  me.  I  will  die 
of  your  contempt  as  one  dies  of  a  quick  and  deadly  poison; 
but  it  is  better  so  to  die  than  to  live  as  I  am  living.  You  shall 
know  me  better,  sire.  You  have  charged  me  with  falsehood 
and  hypocrisy;  thank  God,  I  can  cast  ofF  that  humiliating 
reproach!  I  will  speak  the  truth,  though  it  bows  my  head 
with  shame  and  casts  me  at  your  feet.  If  I  could  die  there, 
I  would  count  myself  most  blessed.  The  truth,  sire,  the 
truth !  listen  to  it.  It  is  true  I  hated  you ;  you  humbled  my 
pride.  You  changed  me,  the  queen  of  grace  and  beauty,  the 
queen  of  the  world,  into  a  poor,  hired  dancer;  with  your 
rude  soldiers  and  police  you  compelled  me  to  fulfil  a  con- 
tract against  which  my  soul  revolted.  I  cursed  you.  You 
separated  me  violently,  from  the  man  I  loved,  who  adored  me, 
and  offered  me  a  splendid  and  glorious  future.  It  is  true  I 
prayed  to  God  for  vengeance,  but  He  would  not  hear  my 
prayer;  He  punished  me  for  my  mad  folly,  and  turned  the 
dagger  I  wildly  aimed  at  you,  against  my  own  breast.  Sire, 
the  hate  to  which  I  swore,  to  which  I  cliuig  as  the  ship- 
wrecked mariner  clings  to  the  plank  which  may  save  him 
from  destruction,  failed  me  in  the  hour  of  need,  and  I  sank, 
sank  down.  A  day  came  in  which  the  prayer  of  rage  and 
revenge  upon  my  lips  was  changed,  in  spite  of  myself,  into 
blessings,  and  I  found,  with  consternation  and  horror,  that 
there  was  indeed  but  one  step  between  wild  hatred  and  pas- 
sionate love,  and  this  fatal  step  lies  over  an  abyss.  I  can- 
not tell  you,  sire,  how  much  I  have  suffered — how  vainly  I 
have  struggled.  I  have  hated,  I  have  cursed  myself  because 
I  could  no  longer  hate  and  curse  you.  The  day  you  left  for 
Silesia,  you  said,  *I  think  ever  of  thee/  Oh!  sire,  you 
14 


212  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

know  not  what  fatal  poison  you  poured  into  my  ears,  with 
what  rapture  and  enchantment  these  words  filled  my  heart. 
My  life  was  a  dream;  I  stood  under  a  golden  canopy,  drunk 
with  joy  and  blessed  with  heavenly  peace,  I  saw  these 
words,  '  I  think  ever  of  thee,'  not  only  in  my  heart,  but  in 
every  flower,  on  every  leaf,  and  written  by  the  sun  in  the 
heavens,  and  in  the  stars.  I  dreamed  of  them  as  one  dreams 
of  fairy  palaces  and  heavenly  melodies.  In  the  songs  of 
sweet  birds,  in  the  plaudits  and  bravos  with  which  the  world 
greeted  me,  I  heard  only  these  celestial  words,  '  I  think  ever 
of  thee.'  I  lived  upon  them  during  your  absence,  I  wrote 
them  with  my  glances  upon  your  empty  chair  in  the  theatre, 
I  fixed  my  eyes  upon  it,  and  for  love  of  you  I  danced  to  it. 
One  night  I  saw  in  this  chair,  not  only  my  golden  starry 
words,  I  saw  two  stars  from  heaven;  I  was  not  prepared — 
their  glance  was  fatal.  No,  sire,  that  was  no  miserable 
comedy,  no  actor's  work.  I  sank  unconscious,  and  from  that 
hour  I  know  one  does  not  die  from  rapture,  but  sinks  in- 
sensible. I  wept  the  whole  night,  God  knows  whether  from 
shame  or  bliss,  I  cannot  tell.  The  next  day — yes — then  I 
was  false  and  deceitful.  I  stuck  my  stiletto  in  my  foot,  to 
deceive  the  world;  only  God  might  know  that  the  Barbarina 
fainted  at  the  sight  of  the  king — fainted  because  she  felt 
that  she  no  longer  hated,  but  worshipped  him." 

She  rushed  to  the  door,  but  Frederick  sprang  after  her; 
he  drew  her  back,  madly  but  silently;  his  eyes  were  radiant 
with  joy. 

"  Remain,"  said  he ;  "I  command  you — I,  not  the  king." 
He  placed  his  lips  to  her  ear  and  whispered  two  words :  her 
soft  cheeks  were  crimson. 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  knock  upon  the  door,  the 
portiere  was  thrown  back,  and  the  wan,  suffering  face  of 
Fredersdorf  was  seen. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  "  your  majesty  commanded  me  to  sum- 
mon Baron  Swartz ;  he  is  here,  and  waits  for  your  orders." 

"  Let  him  enter,"  said  the  king ;  then  smiling  upon  Bar- 
barina, he  said,  "  He  comes  just  in  time ;  we  must  sign  our 
contract,  Swartz  shall  act  as  our  priest." 

He  advanced  to  meet  the  intendant,  and  asked  for  the 
contract  between  Barbarina  and  himself.    He  read  it  care- 


FREDERICR  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    213 

fully,  and  said,  "  There  are  only  a  few  things  to  alter."  He 
stepped  to  his  desk  and  added  a  few  words  to  the  con- 
tract. 

"  Signora,"  said  he,  turning  backward,  "  will  you  come 
here  for  a  moment  ?  " 

Barbarina,  embarrassed  and  blushing,  drew  near.  In  the 
back  part  of  the  room  stood  Baron  Swartz,  watching  the 
king  and  Barbarina  with  a  sly  smile;  near  him  stood  Fre- 
dersdorf,  whose  pale  and  melancholy  face  was  brought  out  in 
strong  relief  by  the  dark  velvet  portiere, 

"  Read  this,"  said  the  king  to  Barbarina,  pointing  to  the 
words  he  had  just  written.     "  Have  you  read?  " 

"  Yes,  sire." 

Frederick  raised  his  head,  and  slightly  turning,  his  glow- 
ing glance  rested  upon  Barbarina,  who,  ashamed  and  con- 
fused, cast  her  eyes  to  the  ground. 

"Will  you  sign  this?" 

"  I  will,  sire,"  said  she,  almost  inaudibly. 

"You  bind  yourself  to  remain  here  for  three  years,  and 
not  to  marry  during  that  time  ?  "  * 

"  I  do,  sire."- 

"  Take  the  pen  and  sign  our  contract. — Come  forward, 
Swartz,  and  witness  this  document. — Fredersdorf,  is  your 
seal  at  hand  ?  " 

The  contract  was  ready. 

"  You  will  say,  *  This  is  a  sad  contract,' "  said  the  king, 
turning  to  Fredersdorf. 

"Yes,  sad  indeed.  The  king  deals  as  cruelly  with  the 
Barbarina  as  he  has  done  with  his  poor  secretary.  This  cold 
king  does  not  believe  in  marriage." 

"  No,  no !  Fredersdorf,  I  will  prove  to  you  that  you  are 
mistaken.  I  have  been  told  that  you  are  ill  because  I  will 
not  allow  you  to  marry.  Now,  then,  Fredersdorf,  I  will  not 
be  hard-hearted.  I  have  to-day  made  an  innocent  sacrifice 
to  my  hatred  of  matrimony.  The  signora  has  bound  herself 
not  to  marry  for  three  years.  For  her  sake,  I  will  be  gra- 
cious to  you:  go  and  marry  the  woman  you  love,  and  when 

*  By  this  contract,  Barbarina  received  an  income  of  seven  thousand  tha- 
lers  and  five  months'  liberty  during  each  year ;  but  she  was  bound  not  tc 
jnarry  during  this  term  of  three  years. — Sohneidbh. 


214  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

the  priest  has  made  you  one,  you  shall  take  your  wife  to 
Paris  for  the  honeymoon,  at  my  cost." 

Fredersdorf  seized  the  hand  of  the  king,  kissed  it,  and 

covered  it  with  his  tears.     Barbarina  gazed  at  the  handsome, 

glowing  face  of  Frederick  with  admiration.     She  understood 

him  fully;  she  felt  that  he  was  happy,  and  wished  all  around 

■  him  to  partake  of  his  joy. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  TRAITOR. 

Baron  von  Pollnitz  was  ill  at  ease;  for  three  days  he 
had  sought  relief  diligently,  but  had  no  alleviation.  He 
found  himself  in  the  antediluvian  condition  of  our  great 
forefather  Adam,  while  he  loitered  away  his  time  in  Para- 
dise. Like  Adam,  Pollnitz  had  no  gold.  Our  good  baron 
found  this  by  no  means  a  happy  state,  and  his  heart  was  full 
of  discontent  and  apprehension;  he  felt  that  he  was,  indeed, 
unblessed.  What  would  become  of  him  if  the  king  should 
not  be  merciful,  should  not  take  pity  upon  his  necessities, 
which  he  had  to-day  made  known  to  him  in  a  most  touching 
and  eloquent  letter.  Up  to  this  time  he  had  been  waiting  in 
vain  for  an  answer.  What  should  he  do  if  the  king  should 
be  hard-hearted  and  cruel  ?  But  no,  that  was  impossible ;  he 
must  consider  it  a  sacred  duty  to  take  care  of  the  old  and 
faithful  servant  of  his  house,  who  had  been  the  favored  com- 
panion of  two  of  Prussia's  kings.  Pollnitz  considered 
that  he  belonged  to  the  royal  family;  he  was  an  adopted 
member ;  they  could  not  think  slightingly  of  him,  or  set  him 
aside. 

He  had  exhausted  his  means,  he  had  borrowed  from  Jew 
and  Christian;  he  had,  by  his  gay  narratives  and  powers  of 
persuasion,  draxvn  large  sums  of  gold  from  the  rich  burghers ; 
all  his  friends  held  his  dishonored  drafts;  even  his  own 
servant  had  allowed  himself  to  be  made  a  fool  of,  and  had 
loaned  him  the  savings  of  many  years ;  and  this  sum  scarcely 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    216 

suflBced  to  maintain  the  noble,  dissipated,  and  great-hearted 
cavalier  a  few  weeks. 

Alas!  what  sacrifices  had  he  not  already  made  to  this 
insane  passion  for  spending  money;  what  humiliation  had 
he  not  suffered — and  all  in  vain!  In  vain  had  he  changed 
his  religion  three  times;  he  had  condescended  so  far  as 
to  pay  court  to  a  merchant's  daughter;  he  had  even  wished 
to  wed  the  daughter  of  a  tailor,  and  she  had  rejected 
him. 

"And  yet,"  said  he,  as  he  thought  over  his  past  life, 
every  thing  might  have  gone  well,  but  for  this  formidable 
stratagem  of  the  king;  this  harsh  prohibition  and  penalty 
as  to  relieving  my  necessities  which  has  been  trumpeted 
through  the  streets — that  ruined  me;  that  gave  me  fearful 
trouble  and  torment".  That  was  refined  cruelty  for  which  I 
will  one  day  revenge  myself,  unless  Frederick  makes  amends. 
Ha!  there  comes  a  royal  messenger.  He  stops  at  my  door. 
God  be  thanked !  The  king  answers  my  letter ;  that  is  to  say, 
the  king  sends  me  money." 

Pollnitz  could  scarcely  restrain  himself  from  rushing  out 
to  receive  the  messenger;  his  dignity,  perhaps,  would  not 
have  sufficed  to  hold  him  back,  but  the  thought  of  the  con- 
siderable douceur  he  would  be  expected  to  pay  moderated  his 
impatience.  At  last  his  servant  came  and  handed  him  a 
letter. 

"  I  hope,"  said  the  baron,  gravely,  "  I  hope  you  rewarded 
the  king's  messenger  handsomely  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  gave  him  nothing." 

"  Nothing !  "  cried  he  angrily.  "  And  you  dare  to  say 
this  to  my  face!  you  do  not  tremble  lest  I  dismiss  you  in- 
stantly from  my  service?  you,  and  such  as  you  are,  cast 
shame  upon  our  race!  I,  a  baron  of  the  realm,  and  grand 
master  of  ceremonies,  allow  a  royal  messenger  who  brings 
me  a  letter  to  go  from  my  door  unrewarded!  Ass,  if  you 
had  no  money,  why  did  you  not  come  to  me?  why  did  you 
not  call  upon  me  for  several  ducats  ?  " 

"  If  your  grace  will  give  me  the  money,  I  will  run  after 
the  messenger.  I  know  where  to  find  him;  he  has  gone  to 
General  Rothenberg's." 

"  Leave  the  room,  scoundrel,  and  spare  me  your  folly  I  " 


316  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

Pollnitz  raised  his  arm  to  strike,  but  the  lackey  fled  and 
left  him  alone  with  his  golden  dreams  of  the  future. 

He  hastily  broke  the  seal  and  opened  the  letter.  "  Not 
from  the  king,  but  from  Fredersdorf,"  he  murmured  im- 
patiently. As  he  read,  his  brow  grew  darker,  and  his  lipe 
breathed  words  of  cursing  and  scorn. 

"  Refused !  "  said  he  passionately,  as  he  read  to  the  end, 
and  cast  the  letter  angrily  to  the  floor.  "  Refused !  The 
king  has  no  money  for  me !  The  king  needs  all  his  gold  for 
war,  which  is  now  about  to  be  declared;  and,  if  I  wish  to 
convince  myself  that  this  is  true,  I  must  go  to-night,  at 
eleven  o'clock,  to  the  middle  door  of  the  castle,  and  there  I 
will  see  that  the  king  has  no  money.  A  curious  proposition, 
indeed!  I  would  rather  go  to  discover  that  he  had  money, 
than  that  he  had  it  not.  If  he  had  it,  I  would  find  a  means  to 
supply  myself.  At  all  events,  I  will  go.  A  curious  rendez- 
vous indeed — a  midnight  assignation  between  a  bankrupt 
baron  and  an  empty  purse !  A  tragedy  might  grow  out  of  it. 
But  if  Frederick  has  really  no  money,  I  must  seek  elsewhere. 
I  will  make  a  last  attempt — I  will  go  to  Trenck." 

The  trusty  baron  made  his  toilet  and  hastened  to  Trenck's 
apartments.  The  young  officer  had  lately  taken  a  beautiful 
suite  of  rooms.  He  had  his  reception-rooms  adorned  with 
costly  furniture  and  rare  works  of  art.  He  had  an  ante- 
chamber, in  which  two  richly-liveried  servants  waited  to 
receive  his  orders.  He  had  a  stable  and  four  splendid 
horses  of  the  Arabian  breed,  and  two  orderlies  to  attend  to 
them!  From  what  quarter  did  Trenck  obtain  the  money 
for  all  this  livery?  This  was  an  open  question  with  which 
the  comrades  of  the  young  lieutenant  were  exercised ;  it 
gave  them  much  cause  for  thought,  and  some  of  them  were 
not  satisfied  with  thinking;  these  thoughts  took  form,  some 
of  their  words  reached  the  ears  of  Trenck,  and  must  have 
been  considered  by  him  very  objectionable.  He  challenged 
the  speaker  to  fight  with  the  sword,  and  disabled  him  effectu- 
ally from  speaking  afterward.*  Trenck  was  at  dinner,  and, 
contrary  to  custom,  alone;  he  received  Pollnitz  most  gra- 
ciously, and  the  baron  took  a  seat  willingly  at  the  table. 

"  I  did  not  come  to  dine  with  you,  but  to  complain  of 

*  Frederick  von  Trenck'a  Memoirea. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     217 

you,"  said  Pollnitz,  cutting  up  the  grouse  with  great  adroit- 
ness and  putting  the  best  part  upon  his  plate. 

"  You  come  to  complain  of  me  ? "  repeated  Trenck,  a 
.  little  embarrassed.  "  I  have  given  you  no  cause  for  dis- 
pleasure, dear  friend." 

"  Yes,  you  have  given  me  good  cause,  even  while  I  am 
your  best  friend!  Why  have  you  withdrawn  your  con- 
fidence from  me?  Why  do  I  no  longer  accompany  you  on 
that  most  romantic  midnight  moonlight  path  to  virtue? 
Why  am  I  no  longer  watchman  and  duenna  when  you  and 
your  lady  call  upon  the  moon  and  stars  to  witness  your  love  ? 
Why  am  I  set  aside  ?  " 

"  I  can  only  say  to  all  this  that  I  go  no  more  upon  the 
balcony." 

"  That  is  to  say—" 

"  That  is  to  say  that  my  stars  are  quenched  and  my  siui 
has  set  in  clouds.     I  am,  even  as  you  are,  set  aside." 

Pollnitz  gazed  at  Trenck  with  so  sharp  and  cunning  an 
eye  that  the  young  man  was  confused  and  looked  down.  The 
baron  laughed  merrily. 

"  Dear  Trenck,"  said  he,  "  a  lie  shows  in  your  face  like  a 
spot  on  the  smooth  skin  of  a  rosy  apple.  You  are  too  young 
to  understand  lying,  and  I  am  too  old  to  be  deceived  by  it. 
Another  point:  will  you  make  me  believe  that  this  luxury 
which  surrounds  you  is  maintained  with  your  lieutenant's 
pay?" 

"  You  forget  that  my  father  has  left  me  his  property  of 
Sherlock,  and  that  I  have  rented  it  for  eight  hiindred 
thalers ! " 

"  I  am  too  good  an  accountant  not  to  know  that  this  sum 
would  scarcely  suffice  for  your  horses  and  servants." 

"  Well,  perhaps  you  are  right ;  for  the  rest  I  may  thank 
my  gracious  king.  During  the  course  of  this  year  he  has 
presented  me  with  three  hundred  Fredericks  d'or;  and  now 
you  know  the  source  of  my  revenue  and  will  not  think  so 
meanly  of  me  as  to  suppose  that — " 

"  That  your  great  love  has  any  thing  to  do  with  earthly 
riches  or  advancement.  I  do  not  believe  that  I  brought  in 
such  a  charge  against  you,  even  as  little  do  I  believe  that  you 
have  been  given  up!  Ah,  dear  friend,  I  alone  have  cause  of 


218  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

complaint ;  I  alone  am  set  aside,  and  why  am  I  thus  treated  ? 
Have  I  not  been  discreet,  diligent  in  your  service,  and  ready 
at  aU  times  ? " 

"  Certainly.  I  can  only  repeat  to  you  that  all  is  at  an, 
end.  Our  beautiful  dream  has  faded  like  the  morning  cloud 
and  the  early  dew." 

"  You  are  in  earnest  i  " 

"  In  solemn  earnest." 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  also  speak  earnestly.  I  will  relate  to 
you  something  which  you  do  not  appear  to  know.  A  garden- 
er boy  who  had  risen  earlier  than  usual  to  protect  some  rare 
flowers  in  the  garden  of  Monbijou  saw  two  figures  upon  the 
balcony,  and  heard  their  light  whispers.  The  boy  made 
known  his  discovery  to  the  principal  gardener,  and  he  com- 
municated the  facts  to  the  chamberlain  of  the  queen-mother. 
It  was  resolved  to  watch  the  balcony.  The  virtuous  and 
suspicious  queen  irmnediately  concluded  that  Mademoiselle 
von  Marwitz  had  arranged  a  rendezvous  upon  the  balcony, 
and  she  was  sternly  resolved  to  dismiss  the  lady  at  once  if 
any  proof  could  be  obtained  against  her.  Happily,  the  queen 
made  known  these  facts  to  the  Princess  Amelia,  and  I  can 
readily  conceive  that  the  balcony  remains  now  unoccupied." 

"  Yes,  I  understand  that." 

"  You  can  also  understand  that  this  event  was  regarded  as 
a  warning  of  fate,  and  great  caution  and  forethought  were 
exercised.  Not  only  was  the  balcony  given  up,  but  the  old 
friend  and  confidant  who  had  played  the  part  of  com- 
panion and  carrier-pigeon  was  banished  and  dismissed  wholly 
from  service." 

"  You  may  go  further  still,"  said  Frederick  von  Trenck. 
"  You  have  not  stated  the  whole  ease.  This  fortunate  provi- 
dence was  a  convincing  proof  of  the  danger  of  an  engage- 
ment which  might  never  hope  to  be  crowned  with  success, 
never  exist  except  under  the  shadows  of  silence  and  gloom, 
with  bleeding  hearts  and  tearful  eyes;  this  dream  of  love 
was  given  up  at  once,  fearing  that  at  no  distant  day  both 
honor  and  liberty  might  be  lost  in  its  pursuit.  They  sep- 
arated !     An  eternal  farewell  was  faltered !  " 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  would  now  deceive  your  confidant 
and  former  aid,  in  order  to  place  yourself  more  securely — 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    219 

and  some  day,  perhaps,  when  suspicion  is  aroused,  you  can 
call  him  as  a  witness  to  prove  that  all  intercourse  was  long 
ago  given  up ;  he  must  know  it,  being  the  confidant  from  the 
beginning.  This  was  a  well-conceived  plot,  but  you  only 
seem  to  forget  that  Pollnitz  was  not  the  man  to  be  deceived. 
He  has  had  too  much  experience,  and  has'  studied  the  hearts 
of  men,  and  especially  of  women,  too  diligently.  A  woman 
who  is  enjoying  her  first  love  and  believes  in  its  holy  power, 
convinces  herself  that  it  can  achieve  wonders  and  overcome 
all  obstacles.  She  does  not  sacrifice  her  love  to  other  duties 
or  to  danger,  not  even  if  she  is  a  common  woman,  far  less 
if  she  is  a  princess.  Princess  Amelia  has  not  given  up  her 
yoimg  and  handsome  lover ;  she  clings  to  him  with  a  frenzied 
constancy,  which  I  confess  to  you,  if  I  had  the  honor  and 
glory  of  being  her  suitor,  would  fill  me  with  apprehension 
and  regret.  No,  no,  the  princess  is  just  now  in  a  paroxysm 
of  youthful  passion,  and  would  rather  die  than  resign  her 
love,  and  she  is  fantastic  enough  to  believe  in  the  possibility 
of  a  legitimate  marriage !  Poor  thing,  she  expects  to  mould 
the  world  to  her  wishes,  and  arms  herself,  I  suppose,  with 
hair-pins !  Princess  Amelia  was  forced  to  give  up  her  inter- 
views upon  the  balcony,  but  she  sought  other  means  to 
gratify  her  passion.  This  was  simple  and  easy  to  do.  The 
maid  of  honor  was  taken  into  her  confidence.  Marwitz  swore 
to  guard  the  secret  fearfully  till  death;  a  plan  was  then  ar- 
ranged with  her  which  was  truly  well  conceived.  Lieuten- 
ant von  Trenck  must  be  spoken  of  as  the  suitor  of  Made- 
moiselle von  Marwitz;  he  must  act  at  the  court-balls  and 
fetes  as  the  tender,  sighing,  and  eager  lover  of  the  maid  of 
honor;  he  must  at  last  make  a  formal  declaration,  and  re- 
ceive permission  to  visit  her  in  her  rooms.  This  is  now  his 
daily  habit,  and  the  good  city  of  Berlin  and  the  short-sighted, 
silly  court  are  completely  deceived,  and  look  upon  Frederick 
von  Trenck  as  the  happy  bridegroom  of  Marwitz,  and  no  one 
guesses  that  when  the  young  oflScer  is  with  the  maid  of 
honor,  the  Princess  Amelia  is  also  present,  and  changes  the 
role  with  Marwitz." 

"I  see  it  is  in  vain,"  said  Trenck,  sighing;  "you  know 
all :  but  if  you  have  any  real  friendship  for  me,  you  will  tell 
me  who  betrayed  us." 


220  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

Pollnitz  laughed  aloud.  "  You  betrayed  yourself,  my 
friend ;  or,  if  you  prefer  it,  my  worldly  wisdom  and  cunning 
betrayed  you.  My  young  and  innocent  friend,  a  man  like 
Pollnitz  is  not  easily  deceived;  his  eyes  are  sharp  enough  to 
pierce  the  veil  of  the  most  charming  little  intrigue,  and 
probe  it  to  the  bottom!  I  know  the  Princess  Amelia;  I 
have  known  her  too  long,  not  to  know  that  she  would  not  so 
quickly,  and  without  a  struggle,  sacrifice  her  love;  and 
further  when  I  saw  at  the  last  court-ball,  with  what  a  long 
and  dreary  face  you  stood  behind  the  chair  of  the  poor 
Marwitz,  and  with  what  calm  and  smiling  content  the  prin- 
cess watched  the  couple  amoureuse,  look  you,  Trenck,  then  I 
knew  and  understood  all." 

"  Well,  then,  as  you  understand  all,  I  make  no  further  at- 
tempt to  deceive  you.  Yes,  God  be  praised!  the  princess 
loves  me  still.  It  is  indeed  the  princess  whom  I  meet  in  the 
apartment  of  the  maid  of  honor;  to  Marwitz  are  the  letters 
directed  which  my  servant  carries  every  morning  to  the  pal- 
ace, and  from  the  Princess  Amelia  do  I  receive  my  answers. 
Yes,  God  be  thanked !  Amelia  loves  me,  and  one  day  she  will 
be  mine  in  the  eyes  of  the  whole  world,  even  as  she  is  now 
mine  in  the  eyes  of  God  and  the  angels ;  one  day — " 

"Stop,  stop!"  cried  Pollnitz  interrupting  him;  ""that 
last  sentence  must  be  explained  before  you  rush  on  with 
your  dithyrambics.  You  have  declared  that  the  princess  is 
yours  in  the  sight  of  God :  what  does  that  mean  ? " 

"  That  means,"  said  Trenck,  "  that  God,  who  looks  into 
our  hearts,  knows  the  eternity  and  boundlessness  of  our  love ; 
that  means  that,  under  God's  heaven,  and  calling  upon  His 
holy  name,  we  have  sworn  never  to  forget  our  love  and  our 
faith,  and  never  to  form  any  other  alliance." 

"  So  nothing  more  than  that — no  secret  marriage  ?  Are 
you  never  alone  with  the  princess  ?  " 

"  No,  never !  I  have  given  her  my  word  of  honor  never 
even  to  ask  it,  and  I  will  keep  my  oath.  And,  after  all,  the 
good  Marwitz  disturbs  us  not;  she  gets  as  far  from  us  as 
possible :  she  seems  to  see  us  not,  and  we  speak  in  such  low 
tones,  that  she  does  not  hear  a  word  we  utter." 

"  Ah !  so  the  Marwitz  does  not  disturb  you  ?  "  cried  Poll- 
nitz, with  a  cynical  laugh.    "  O  sancta  simpUcitas !  and  this 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    221 

is  an  officer  of  the  life-guard  ?  The  world  is  going  to  destruc- 
tion; or  it  is  becoming  innocent  and  pure  as  Paradise.  It 
is  time  for  me  to  die;  I  no  longer  understand  this  pitiful 
world." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  and  I  will  not  understand  you," 
said  Trenck  gravely.  "  You  laugh  at  me,  and  call  me  a  silly 
boy,  and  I  allow  it.  I  know  we  cannot  understand  each 
other  in  such  matters;  you  cannot  conceive  what  strength, 
what  self-denial,  what  energy  I  exert  to  make  myself  worthy 
of  the  pure,  modest,  and  exalted  love  which  Amelia  has 
consecrated  to  me.  You  cannot  comprehend  how  often  my 
good  and  evil  genius  struggle  for  the  mastery,  how  often  I 
pray  God  to  keep  me  from  temptation.  No,  I  have  sworn 
that  this  love  shall  wave  pure  and  unblemished,  like  a  glori- 
ous banner  over  my  whole  life ;  come  death  rather  than  dis- 
honor! And  now,  friend,  explain  your  meaning:  why  all 
these  plots  and  counterplots?     What  is  your  object?" 

"  Nothing  more  than  to  warn  you  to  prudence.  I  do  not 
believe  all  the  world  is  deceived  by  your  comedy  with  Mar- 
witz.  The  king,  who  appears  to  see  nothing,  sees  all.  He 
has  his  spies  everywhere,  and  knows  all  that  happens  in  his 
family.     Be  careful,  be  ever  on  your  guard." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  warning,"  said  Trenck,  pressing 
the  hand  of  the  master  of  ceremonies.  "  We  must  soon  sep- 
arate ;  you  know  that  in  a  few  weeks  we  go  to  Silesia.  The 
king  is  silently  preparing  for  war." 

"  I  know  it,  and  I  pity  you." 

"  Pity  me !  Ah,  you  do  not  understand  me.  I  long  for 
my  first  battle  as  a  lover  does  for  his  first  sweet  kiss.  The 
battle-field  is  for  me  a  consecrated  garden,  where  my  laurels 
and  myrtles  grow.  I  shall  pluck  them  and  weave  wreaths  for 
my  bride — wedding  wreaths.  Pollnitz,  on  the  other  side, 
beyond  the  bloody  battle-grpund,  lies  my  title  of  prince,  and 
Amelia's  bridle-wreath." 

"  Dreamer,  fantastic,  hopeless  dreamer !  "  cried  Pollnitz, 
laughing.  "  Well,  God  grant  that  you  do  not  embrace  death 
on  the  battle-field,  or  on  the  other  side  find  a  prison,  to  either 
of  which  you  have  a  better  claim  than  to  a  prince's  title. 
Make  use,  therefore,  of  your  time,  and  enjoy  these  charming 
interviews.     Is  one  arranged  for  this  evening  ? " 


222  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OE, 

"No,  but  to-morrow.  The  reigning  queen  gives  a  baU 
to-morrow.  Immediately  before  the  ball  I  am  to  meet  the 
princess.  Oh,  my  friend,  to-morrow  evening  at  five  think  of 
me!  I  shall  be  the  happiest  and  most  amiable  of  mortals. 
I  shall  be  with  my  beloved !  " 

"  Alas !  how  strange  is  life,  and  how  little  do  the  fates  of 
men  resemble !  To-morrow,  at  the  hour  when  you  will  be  so 
unspeakably  happy,  I  shall  be  walking  in  a  thorny,  a  cursed 
path ;  I  shall  be  on  my  way  to  the  usurer." 

"  To  the  usurer  ?  That  is  indeed  a  sad  alternative  for  a 
cavalier  like  the  Baron  von  Pollnitz." 

"  But  that  is  still  better  than  imprisonment  for  debt,  and 
I  have  only  the  choice  between  these  two,  unless  you,  dearest 
friend,  will  take  pity  upon  me  and  lend  me  a  hundred  louis 
d'ors." 

Frederick  Trenck  said  nothing.  He  stepped  to  his  desk. 
The  eyes  of  the  baron  glittered  with  joy  as  he  saw  Trenck 
take  out  a  pocket-book,  in  which  he  knew  by  pleasant  ex- 
perience that  the  young  officer  sometimes  kept  gold.  His 
joy  was  of  short  duration.  !N^o  gold  was  seen.  Trenck  took 
out  a  small,  modest,  unsealed  paper  and  handed  it  to  him. 

"  Look  at  this  draft,"  said  he.  "  Had  you  come  yesterday 
I  could  have  accommodated  you  joyfully.  To-day  it  is  im- 
possible. I  have  this  morning  lent  my  colonel  two  hundred 
ducats,  and  my  purse  is  empty." 

"  Well,  you  must  soon  fill  it,"  said  Pollnitz,  with  a  coarse 
laugh.  "  To-morrow  at  five  you  will  enjoy  your  rendezvous, 
and  you  will  not  only  speak  of  God,  and  love,  and  the  stars, 
but  also  a  little  of  earthly  things — of  pomp  and  gold,  and — 
Farewell !  " 

With  a  gay  laugh  Pollnitz  took  leave,  but  he  no  sooner 
found  himself  alone  upon  the  street  than  his  face  grew  black 
and  his  eye  was  full  of  malice. 

"  He  has  no  gold  for  me,  but  I  have  his  secret,  and  I  will 
know  how  to  squeeze  some  gold  out  of  that,"  murmured  Poll- 
nitz. "  Truly  I  think  this  secret  of  Trenck's  is  worth  some 
thousand  thalers,  and  the  king  must  find  the  means  to  pay 
for  it.  But  stopl  The  hour  of  my  interesting  rendezvous 
draws  near.  I  am  curious  to  know  how  I  am  to  be  convinced 
at  eleven  o'clock,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  that  the 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    223 

king  has  no  gold.  I  will  be  punctual,  but  I  have  still  time  to 
visit  a  few  friends,  and  seek  if  possible  to  win  a  few  louis 
d'ors  at  faro." 


CHAPTEE  XVn. 

THE  SILVER-WARE. 

It  was  a  dark,  still  night.  As  the  clock  struck  ten  the 
night  might  really  be  said  to  begin  in  Berlin.  The  streets 
were  not  lighted  except  by  accidental  rays  from  the  windows 
and  the  carriage-lamps,  and  the  glare  of  torches  carried  by 
the  servants  who  accompanied  their  masters  to  places  of 
amusement.  By  eleven  o'clock  the  streets  were  deserted. 
PoUnitz  was  therefore  sure  to  meet  no  one  on  his  way  to  the 
castle.  He  directed  his  steps  to  that  door  which  opened  upon 
,  the  River  Spree,  as  Fredersdorf  had  advised  him. 

Silence  reigned  in  the  palace.  The  sentinel  stepped  slow- 
ly backward  and  forward  in  the  courtyard,  and  in  the  distance 
was  heard  the  baying  of  two  hounds,  entertaining  each  other 
with  their  melancholy  music.  The  master  of  ceremonies  be- 
gan to  be  impatient ;  he  thought  that  the  impertinent  private 
secretary  had  been  indulging  in  some  practical  joke  or  mysti- 
fication at  his  expense ;  but  as  he  drew  near  to  the  Spree,  he 
heard  the  light  stroke  of  oars  in  the  water.  Pollnitz  has- 
tened forward,  and  his  eyes,  accustomed  to  the  darkness, 
discovered  a  skiff  drawn  up  near  the  Elector's  Bridge. 

"  This  is  the  point !  here  we  must  wait,"  whispered  a 
manly  voice. 

"I  think  we  will  not  have  to  wait  long,"  said  another. 
"  I  see  lights  in  the  windows." 

The  side  of  the  castle  next  the  Spree  was  now  suddenly 
lighted;  first  the  upper  story,  then  the  lower,  and  a  pale 
light  was  now  seen  in  the  vestibtde. 

"  Truly,  I  have  not  been  deceived ;  something  is  going 
on,"  said  Pollnitz,  hastening  forward. 
^'      As  he  entered  the  court,  a  curious  train  was  seen  descend- 
ing the  steps.    In  front  were  two  servants  with  torches ;  they 


224  BERLIN  AXD  SANS-SOUCI;  OR. 

were  followed  by  twelve  heyducks,  their  shoulders  weighed 
down  with  dishes,  cans,  cups,  plates,  whose  silver  surface, 
illumined  by  the  golden  glare  of  the  torches,  seemed  to 
dance  and  glimmer  along  the  wall  and  steps  like  "  will  o'  the 
wisps."  Two  servants  with  towels  brought  up  the  rear,  and 
behind  these  the  pale,  sad  face  of  Fredersdorf  was  seen. 

"  You  are  punctual,"  said  he  to  PoUnitz ;  "  you  wish  to 
convince  yourself  that  the  king  has  no  gold  ?  " 

"  Certainly !  though  this  conviction  will  deprive  me  of 
my  last  hope,  and  one  does  not  adopt  such  a  course  eagerly." 

"  I  think  you  will  be  fully  convinced.  Come,  let  us  fol- 
low the  heyducksy 

He  took  the  arm  of  the  baron,  and  they  soon  reached  the 
border  of  the  Spree.  The  large  skiff,  which  had  been  lying 
so  dark  and  still,  was  now  lighted  by  the  torches  of  the  ser- 
vants, who  ranged  themselves  on  each  side ;  it  was  brilliantly 
lighted,  and  great  activity  prevailed.  The  twelve  heyducks, 
bending  under  their  heavy  burden,  entered  the  skiff,  and 
piled  up  the  silver-ware,  then  sprang  again  ashore. 

"  We  are  going  to  the  treasure-room,  will  you  follow  us  ?  " 
said  Fredersdorf. 

"  Certainly ;  if  not,  you  may  perhaps  expect  to  leave  me 
here  as  sentinel." 

"  That  is  not  at  all  necessary ;  there  are  some  soldiers 
with  loaded  muskets  in  the  skiff.     Come." 

Silently  and  hastily  they  all  mounted  the  steps  and 
reached  at  last  the  large  room  where  the  royal  silver  had 
been  kept;  the  door  was  open,  but  guarded  by  sentinels,  and 
Melchoir,  who  had  had  the  silver  in  charge,  now  walked  be- 
fore the  door  with  a  disturbed  and  sad  visage. 

"  May  I  enter,  Melchoir  ?  "  said  Pollnitz  to  his  old  ac- 
quaintance, greeting  him  with  a  friendly  smile. 

"  There  is  no  necessity  to  ask,"  said  Melchoir,  sadly. 
"  My  kingdom  is  at  an  end,  as  you  see,  when  the  silver  is 
gone ;  there  is  no  necessity  for  a  steward,  and  the  old  Mel- 
choir will  be  set  aside,  with  all  those  who  yet  remain  of 
the  good  old  times  of  the  ever-blessed  Frederick  William !  " 

Pollnitz  entered  the  room  with  Fredersdorf,  and  his  eye 
wandered  over  the  rich  treasures  spread  out  before  him,  and 
which  the  heyducks  were  now  packing  in  large  sacks. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    225 

"  Oh,  if  these  plates  and  dishes  could  speak  and  converse 
with  me,  what  curious  things  we  would  have  to  confide  with 
each  other !  "  said  Pollnitz,  twirling  one  of  the  plates  between 
his  fingers.  "  How  often  have  I  dined  from  your  rich  abun- 
dance !  Under  the  first  pomp-and-splendor-loving  Frederick, 
you  furnished  me  with  gala  dinners ;  under  the  parsimonious 
Frederick  William,  with  solid  family  dinners!  How  often 
have  I  seen  my  smiling  face  reflected  in  your  polished  sur- 
face! how  often  has  this  silver  fork  conveyed  the  rarest 
morsels  to  my  lips !  I  declare  to  you,  Fredersdorf ,  I  think  a 
dinner  plate  fulfils  a  noble  mission ;  within  its  narrow  bound 
lie  the  bone  and  sinew,  as  also  the  best  enjoyments  of  life. 
But  tell  me,  for  God's  sake,  how  can  you  bear  that  these 
rascals  should  handle  the  king's  silver  so  roughly?  Only 
look,  now,  at  that  heyducJc,  he  has  completely  doubled  up 
one  of  those  beautiful  salad-bowls,  in  order  to  force  it  into 
the  mouth  of  the  sack." 

"  What  signifies,  dear  baron  ?  That  said  salad-bowl  will 
never  again  be  used  for  salad,  henceforth  it  is  only  silver." 

"You  speak  in  riddles,  and  I  do  not  understand  you. 
Well,  well,  those  fellows  have  already  filled  their  twelve 
sacks,  and  this  room  is  now  as  empty  and  forlorn  as  the  heart 
of  an  old  bachelor.  K'ow  tell  me  what  you  are  going  to  do 
with  all  these  treasures  ?  " 

"  Can  you  not  guess  ?  " 

"  I  think  the  king,  who  now  lives  in  Potsdam,  needs  his 
silver  service,  and  as  he  does  not  wish  to  make  a  new  pur- 
chase, he  sends  to  Berlin  for  this.     Am  I  right  ?  " 

"  You  shall  soon  know.  Let  us  follow  the  heyduclcs,  the 
room  is  empty.  Adieu,  Melchoir,  your  duties  will  be  light 
hereafter ;  you  need  not  fear  the  robbers.     Come,  baron." 

They  soon  reached  the  skiff,  and  found  that  the  twelve 
sacks  had  been  placed  beside  the  huge  pile  of  dishes, 
plates,  etc. 

• "  Alas !  "  said  Fredersdorf,  gloomily,  "  all  this  might  have 
been  avoided  if  I  had  already  reached  the  goal  I  am  aiming 
at ;  if  I  had  fathomed  the  great  mystery  which  God  has  sus- 
pended over  mankind,  upon  whose  sharp  angles  and  edges 
thousands  of  learned  and  wise  men  have  dashed  their  brains 
and  destroyed  their  life's  happiness!     My  God!  I  have  ac- 


226  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOtJCI ;  OR, 

complished  so  much,  so  little  remains  to  be  done !  let  me  only 
find  a  sufficiently  hardened  substance,  and  the  work  is  done. 
t  shall  have  laid  bare  God's  great  mystery — I  shall  make 
gold!" 

"  Do  you  think  ever  of  this,  Fredersdorf  ?  " 

"  I  think  ever  of  this,  and  shall  think  only  of  this  as  long 
as  I  live.  This  thought  swallows  up  all  other  thoughts;  it 
has  destroyed  my  love,  my  rest,  my  sleep,  my  earthly  happi- 
ness !  But  wait,  Pollnitz,  only  wait ;  one  day  I  shall  lift  the 
philosopher's  stone,  and  make  gold.  On  that  day  you  will 
love  me  dearly,  Baron  Pollnitz.  On  that  day  I  will  not  be 
obliged  to  prove  to  you,  as  I  have  just  done,  that  the  king  has 
no  money." 

"  I  have  seen  no  proof  yet,"  said  Pollnitz. 

"  You  shall  have  it  now,  baron,"  said  Fredersdorf,  spring- 
ing into  the  skiff.  "  Will  you  not  go  with  us  ?  Forward, 
forward  at  once !  " 

"  But  what  is  your  destination  ?  " 

"  Come  nearer,  that  I  may  whisper  in  your  ear." 

Pollnitz  bowed  his  head. 

"We  are  going  to  the  mint,"  whispered  Fredersdorf. 
"  All  this  beautiful  silver  will  be  melted.  The  king  will 
give  no  more  dinners,  he  will  give  battle.  The  king  changes 
his  dishes  and  plates  into  good  thalers  to  feed  his  brave 
army.  And  now,  are  you  not  convinced  that  the  king  has 
no  money  to  pay  your  debts  ? " 

"  I  am  convinced." 

"  Then  farewell.  Take  the  rudder,  boj^s,  and  go  forward ; 
enter  the  arm  of  the  Spree  which  flows  by  the  mint,  and 
there  anchor.     The  mint  is  our  goal." 

"  The  mint  is  the  goal,"  murmured  Pollnitz,  with  a  grim 
look,  gazing  after  the  skiff,  which  moved  slowly  over  the 
water,  and  which,  lighted  by  the  torches,  shone  brilliantly  in 
the  midst  of  the  surrounding  darkness.  The  golden  light, 
playing  upon  the  rich  liveries  of  the  heyducks  and  the  tower 
of  silver  in  their  midst,  forme(f  a  scene  of  wonder  and  en- 
chantment. 

Pollnitz  watched  them  until  the  torches  seemed  like  little 
stars  in  the  distance.  "  There  go  all  the  pomp  and  glory 
of  the  world,  the  joys  of  peace  and  luxuripus  rest.     The 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  PRIEJfDS.    227 

silver  will  be  melted,  iron  and  steel  will  take  its  place.  Yes, 
the  iron  age  begins,  Alas !  it  begins  also  for  me — ^why  can^ 
not  I  go  into  the  mint  and  be  melted  down  with  these  plates 
and  dishes  ? " 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  FIRST  fLASH  OF  LIGHTNINa. 

DtJRlNd  this  night  PoUnite  slept  but  little;  when,  how- 
ever, he  rose  from  his  couch  the  next  morning,  his  brow  was 
clear  and  his  countenance  gayer  than  it  had  been  for  a  long 
time;  he  had  made  his  plans,  and  was  convinced  that  he 
would  succeed. 

"I  will  earn  a  hundred  ducats,  said  he,  smiling  to  him- 
self, as  in  a  superb  toilet  he  left  his  dwelling,  "  yes,  a  hun- 
dred ducats,  and  I  will  revenge  myself  upon  the  king  for 
that  trumpeting  and  outcry.  This  shall  be  a  blessed  and 
beautiful  morning." 

He  walked  first  to  the  apartment  of  Colonel  Jaschinsky, 
and  announced  himself  as  coming  upon  most  important  busi- 
ness. The  colonel  hastened  to  meet  him,  ready  to  be  of 
service,  and  full  of  curiosity. 

"  Lead  me  to  a  room  where  we  are  absolutely  certain  not 
to  be  observed  or  listened  to,"  said  Pollnitz. 

They  entered  the  colonel's  cabinet. 

"  Here,  baron,  we  are  secure." 

"  Without  circumlocution,  then,  count,  you  know  the  law 
which  forbids  officers  to  make  debts  ?  " 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Jaschinsky,  turning  pale,  "  and  I  be- 
lieve that  BaroU  Pollnitz  is  well  content  not  to  belong  to  the 
officers." 

"Perhaps  you,  sir  count,  may  also  cease  to  belong  to 
them?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ? "  said  Jaschinsky,  anx- 
iously. 

"  I  mean  simply  that  Colonel  Jaschinsky  belongs  to  those 
15 


228  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

officers  who  are  forbidden  to  make  debts,  but  that  he  disre- 
gards the  law." 

"  You  came  here,  as  it  appears,  to  threaten  m^e  ? " 

"  No,  principally  to  warn  you ;  you  know  that  the  king  is 
particularly  severe  against  his  body-guard.  You  are  the 
colonel  of  this  splendid  regiment,  and  should,  without  doubt, 
set  the  other  officers  a  good  example.  I  doubt  if  the  king 
would  consider  that  you  did  your  duty,  if  he  knew  that  you 
not  only  made  debts,  but  borrowed  money  from  the  officers 
of  your  own  regiment." 

"  Take  care.  Baron  von  Pollnitz ! "  said  Jaschinsky, 
threateningly. 

Pollnitz  said,  smilingly :  "  It  appears  that  you  are  menac- 
ing me,  that  is  wholly  unnecessary.  Listen  quietly  to  what 
I  have  to  say.  I  have  come  to  arrange  a  little  matter  of 
business  with  you.  Day  before  yesterday  you  borrowed  two 
hundred  ducats  from  Baron  Trenck.  Give  me  one  hundred 
of  them,  and  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  not  to  expose  you 
— deny  me,  and  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  I  will  go  in- 
stantly to  the  king,  and  relate  the  whole  history.  You  know, 
count,  you  would  be  instantly  cashiered." 

"  I  do  not  know  that  his  majesty  would  grant  a  ready 
belief  to  the  statement  of  Baron  Pollnitz,  and  you  have  no 
proof  to  confirm  it." 

"  I  have  proof.  You  gave  your  note  for  the  money.  I 
think  that  would  be  convincing  testimony." 

The  count  was  pale  and  agitated.  "  If  I  give  you  a  hun- 
dred ducats,  you  promise  on  your  word  of  honor  not  to  ex- 
pose me  to  the  king  ? " 

"  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor ;  more  than  that,  I  prom- 
ise you  to  defend  you,  if  any  one  shall  accuse  you  to  the 
king." 

Jaschinsky  did  not  reply;  he  stepped  to  his  desk  and 
took  out  two  rolls  of  ducats.  "  Baron,"  said  he,  "  here  is 
half  of  the  money  I  borrowed  from  Trenck ;  before  I  hand  it 
to  you  I  have  one  request  to  make." 

«  Well,  speak." 

"  How  did  you  learn  that  I  borrowed  this  money  ?  " 

"  I  saw  your  note  which  you  gave  to  Trenck." 

"  Ah !  he  showed  it  to  you,"  cried  Jaschinsky,  with  such 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    229 

an  expression  of  hate,  scorn,  and  revenge,  that  even  PoUnitz 
was  moved  by  it. 

He  took  the  gold  and  let  it  slide  slowly  into  his  pocket. 
"  I  owe  you  a  hundred  ducats ;  I  cannot  promise  you  to  re- 
turn them;  but  I  can  promise  you  that  Trenck  will  never 
produce  your  draft,  and  I  will  show  you  how  to  revenge 
yourself  upon  the  handsome  officer." 

"  If  you  assist  me  in  that,  I  will  present  you  with  my 
best  horse." 

"  You  shall  be  revenged,"  said  Pollnitz,  solemnly.  "  You 
can  send  the  horse  to  my  stable;  Frederick  von  Trenck  will 
soon  cease  to  be  dangerous  to  any  one ;  he  is  a  lost  man ! — 
And  now  to  the  king,"  said  Pollnitz,  as  he  left  the  colonel's 
quarters.  "  Yes,  to  the  king ;  I  must  thank  him  for  the 
confidence  he  showed  me  last  night." 

The  king  was  making  his  preparations  for  war  with  the 
most  profound  secrecy;  he  worked  only  at  night,  and  gave 
up  his  entire  time  seemingly  to  pleasures  and  amusements. 
He  was  daily  occupied  with  concerts,  balls,  operas,  and  bal- 
lets; he  had  just  returned  from  seeing  the  rehearsal  of  a 
new  opera,  in  which  Barbarina  danced;  he  was  gay  and 
gracious. 

He  received  his  master  of  ceremonies  jestingly,  and 
asked  him  if  he  came  to  announce  that  he  had  become  a  Jew. 
"  You  have  tried  every  other  religion  at  least  twice ;  I  know 
that  you  have  had  of  late  much  to  do  with  the  *  chosen 
people ; '  I  suppose  you  are  now  full  of  religious  zeal,  and 
wish  to  turn  Israelite.  It  would,  perhaps,  be  a  wise  opera- 
tion. The  Jews  have  plenty  of  gold,  and  they  would  surely 
aid  with  all  their  strength  their  new  and  distinguished 
brother.     Speak,  then,  make  known  your  purpose." 

"  I  come  to  thank  your  majesty  for  the  supper  you  gra- 
ciously accorded  me  last  night." 

"  A  supper !  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Your  majesty,  through  your  private  secretary,  invited 
me  to  table,  with  all  your  splendid  silver-ware.  Truly  the 
meal  was  indigestible  and  lies  like  a  stone  upon  my  stomach ; 
but,  I  say  with  the  good  soldiers,  after  the  lash,  '  I  thank 
your  majesty  for  gracious  punishment.' " 

"  You  are  an  intolerable  fool ;  but  mark  me,  no  word  gi 


230  BERLIN  AND  SANS^OUCI;  OR, 

what  you  have  seen.  I  wished  to  prove  to  you  that  I  had  no 
money,  and  to  be  freed  from  your  everlasting  complaints 
and  petitions.  I  have  therefore  allowed  you  to  see  that  my 
silver  has  gone  to  the  mint.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  you  will 
now  compose  yourself,  and  seek  no  more  gold  from  me.  Do 
not  ask  gold  of  kings,  but  of  Jews!  Kings  are  poor,  the 
poorest  people  of  the  state,  for  they  have  no  personal  prop- 
erty." * 

"  Oh,  that  the  whole  world  could  hear  the  exalted  and 
high-hearted  words  of  my  king !  "  cried  Pollnitz,  with  well- 
acted  enthusiasm.  "  Thrice  blessed  is  that  nation  which  has 
such  a  ruler !  " 

The  king  looked  at  him  searchingly.  "  You  flatter  me ; 
you  want  something,  of  course." 

"  No,  sire,  I  swear  I  come  with  the  purest  intentions." 

"  Intentions  ?    You  have,  then,  intentions  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sire,  but  now  that  I  stand  here  face  to  face  with 
you,  I  feel  that  my  courage  fails,  and  I  cannot  speak  what  I 
intended." 

"  Now  truly,"  said  the  king,  laughing,  "  the  circum- 
stances must  indeed  be  dangerous  which  deprive  Baron  Poll- 
nitz of  the  power  of  speech." 

"  Words,  your  majesty,  are  important  things.  Once  a 
few  words  saved  me  from  death ;  it  may  be  that  a  few  words, 
spoken  this  day  to  your 'majesty,  may  bring  me  into  disfavor, 
and  that  would  be  worse  than  death." 

"  What  were  the  words  which  saved  you  from  death?  " 

"  These,  sire :  *  Va-t-en,  noble  guerrier ! ' " 

"  This  took  place  in  France  ?  " 

"In  Paris,  sire.  I  was  dining  in  a  small  hotel  in  the 
village  of  Etampes,  near  Paris.  A  very  elegant  cavalier  sat 
next  me  and  from  time  to  time,  as  if  accidentally,  addressed 
me  in  a  refined  and  winning^jway ;  he  informed  himself  as  to 
my  intentions  and  circumstances.  I  was  an  inexperienced 
youth,  and  the  cavalier  was  adroit  in  questioning.  This  was 
at  the  time  of  the  Mississippi  speculation  of  the  great  finan- 
cier Law.  I  had  gained  that  day,  in  the  Rue  Quinquempoia, 
the  sum  of  four  hundred  thousand  francs.    I  had  this  money 

*  The  king's  own  words. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    231 

with  me,  and  after  dinner  I  proposed  to  go  to  Versailles. 
I  was  not  without  apprehension,  the  streets  were  unsafe,  and 
Cartouche  with  his  whole  band  of  robbers  had  for  some  time 
taken  possession  of  the  environs  of  Paris,  and  made  them  the 
theatre  of  his  daring  deeds." 

"  So  you  received  your  new  friend  trustingly  ? "  said  the 
king,  laughing  heartily. 

"  Yes,  sire,  and  we  had  just  agreed  as  to  the  hour  of  our 
departure,  when  a  little  maiden  appeared  under  the  window 
of  our  dining-room  and  sang  in  a  loud,  clear  voice,  '  Va-t-en, 
noble  guer^ier ! '  The  strange  cavalier  rose  and  stepped  to 
the  window  to  give  her  a  few  sous,  then  went  out — and  I 
saw  him  no  more." 

"  And  you  conclude  from  this  that  the  words  of  the  song 
saved  your  life  ?  you  think  that  the  man  with  whom  you  were 
eating  was  a  poisoner  ?  " 

"I  thought  nothing,  sire,  and  forgot  the  adventure.  A 
year  after,  I  was  standing  in  the  street  as  Cartouche  was 
being  led  to  execution.  All  Paris  was  abroad  to  see  the 
famous  brigand.  I  had  a  good  place,  the  procession  passed 
immediately  by  me,  and  look  you,  I  recognized  in  the  poor 
sinner  now  being  led  to  execution,  the  elegant  gentleman  of 
the  cabaret  at  Etampes  I  He  knew  me  also  and  stood  still 
for  a  moment.  '  Sir,'  said  he,  *  I  dined  with  you  a  year  ago. 
The  words  of  an  old  song  gave  me  notice  to  leave  the  cabaret 
immediately.  They  announced  to  me  that  the  pursuers  were 
on  my  heels;  your  star  was  in  the  ascendant,  stranger;  had 
I  accompanied  you  to  Versailles,  you  would  have  lost  your 
gold  and  your  life.'  Your  majesty  will  now  understand  that 
these  words,  '  Va-t-en,  noble  guerrieVf'  saved  my  life." 

"I  Confess  it,  and  I  am  now  most  curious  to  hear  the 
words  which  you  fear  will  bring  my  displeasure  upon  you." 

"  Sire,  I  have  been  for  more  than  forty  years  a  faithful 
servant  of  your  exalted  house.     Will  you  not  admit  this  ?  " 

"  Faithful  ?  "  repeated  Frederick ;  "  you  were  faithful  to 
us  when  it  was  to  your  advantage:  you  deserted  us  when 
you  thought  it  to  your  interest  to  do  so.  I  reproached  you 
with  this  in  former  times,  but  now  that  I  know  the  world 
better,  I  forgive  you.  Go  on,  then,  with  your  pathetic  ap- 
peaL" 


232  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCl;  OR, 

"  Your  majesty  has  often  commanded  me  to  make  known 
to  you  every  thing  which  the  good  people  say  of  your  royal 
family,  and  when  any  one  dared  to  whisper  a  slander  against 
you  or  yours,  to  inform  you  of  it  at  once." 

"  Does  any  one  dare  to  do  that  ? "  said  the  king,  with  an 
expression  of  anguish  upon  his  noble  face. 

"  Yes,  sire." 

The  king  breathed  a  heavy  sigh,  and  walked  hastily  up 
and  down;  then  placing  himself  before  the  window,  and 
turning  his  back  on  Pollnitz,  he  said,  "  Go  on." 

"  Sire,  it  is  lightly  whispered  that  the  young  Lieutenant 
Trenck  has  dared  to  love  a  lady  who  is  so  far  above  him  in 
her  bright  radiance  and  royal  birth,  that  he  should  not  dare 
to  lift  his  eyes  to  her  face  except  in  holy  reverence." 

"  I  have  been  told  that  he  was  the  lover  of  Mademoiselle 
von  Marwitz,"  said  the  king. 

"  The  world  and  the  good  Berliners  believe  that,  but  the 
initiated  know  that  this  pretended  love  is  only  a  veil  thrown 
by  the  bold  youth  over  a  highly  traitorous  passion." 

Pollnitz  was  silent;  he  waited  for  the  king  to  speak,  and 
watched  him  with  a  malicious  smile.  Frederick  still  stood 
with  his  face  to  the  window,  and  saw  nothing  of  this. 

"  Shall  I  go  on  ? "  said  Pollnitz  at  last. 

"  I  command  you  to  do  so,"  said  the  king. 

Pollnitz  drew  nearer.  "  Sire,"  said  he,  half  aloud,  "  allow 
me  to  say  what  no  one  knows  but  myself.  Baron  Trenck 
visits  Mademoiselle  von  Marwitz  every  day,  but  a  third  per- 
son is  ever  present  at  these  interviews." 

"  And  this  third  person  is — " 

"  The  Princess  Amelia !  " 

The  king  turned  hastily,  and  the  glance  which  he  fixed 
upon  Pollnitz  was  so  flashing,  so  threatening,  that  even  the 
bold  and  insolent  master  of  ceremonies  trembled.  "  Are 
you  convinced  of  the  truth  of  what  you  have  stated  ? "  said 
he  harshly. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  "  if  you  wish  to  convince  yourself,  it  is 

only  necessary  to  go  this  evening  between  five  and  six  o'clock, 

unannounced,  into  the  rooms  of  the  Princess  Amelia.    You 

will  then  see  that  I  have  spoken  truth." 

1        Frederick  did  not  reply;  he  stepped  again  to  the  window. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     233 

and  looked  silently  into  the  street.  Once  more  he  turned  to 
Pollnitz,  and  his  face  was  clear  and  smiling. 

"  Pollnitz,  you  are  an  old  fox ;  but  you  have  laid  your 
foundation  badly,  and  your  whole  plot  is  poorly  conceived. 
Look  you !  I  understand  this  intrigue  perfectly.  You  hate 
poor  Trenck;  I  have  long  seen  that.  You  hate  him  because 
I  honor  and  promote  him,  and  you  courtiers  always  regard 
those  as  your  enemies  who  stand  higher  in  favor  than  your- 
selves. Trenck  deserves  his  good  fortune,  in  spite  of  his 
youth;  he  is  a  learned  and  accomplished  officer,  and  a  most 
amiable  and  elegant  gentleman.  You  cannot  forgive  him 
for  this,  and  therefore  you  accuse  him.  This  time  you  shall 
not  succeed.  I  tell  you  I  don't  believe  one  word  of  this  silly 
scandal.  I  will  forget  what  you  have  dared  to  say ;  but  look 
to  it,  that  you  also  forget.  Woe  to  you  if  you  do  not  forget ; 
woe  to  you  if  your  lips  ever  again  utter  this  folly  to  me 
or  to  any  other  person!  I  hold  you  wholly  responsible.  In 
your  own  mad,  malicious  brain  is  this  fairy  tale  conceived; 
it  will  be  your  fault  if  it  goes  farther,  and  is  ever  spoken  of. 
Conform  yourself  to  this,  sir,  and  retreat  in  time.  I  re- 
peat to  you,  I  hold  you  responsible.  Now  go,  without  a  word, 
and  send  me  my  adjutant — it  is  high  time  for  parade." 

"  Flashed  in  the  pan,  completely  flashed,"  said  Pollnitz  to 
himself,  as  with  a  courtly  bow  and  a  smiling  lip  he  took  leave 
of  the  king.  "  I  had  hoped  at  least  for  a  small  reward,  if  it 
was  only  to  see  that  I  had  made  him  angry.  Alas !  this  man 
is  invulnerable;  all  my  files  wear  away  on  him." 

Could  he  have  seen  what  an  expression  of  care  and  an- 
guish overshadowed  the  king's  face  when  he  was  alone — could 
he  have  heard  the  king's  sighs  and  the  broken  words  of  sor- 
row and  despair  which  he  uttered,  the  wicked  heart  of  the 
master  of  ceremonies  would  have  been  filled  with  gladness. 
But  Frederick  indulged  himself  in  this  weakness  but  a  short 
time;  he  drew  his  royal  mantle  over  his  aching  heart,  he 
cast  the  veil  of  sadness  from  his  eyes,  and  armed  them  with 
the  might  of  majesty. 

"  This  rendezvous  shall  not  take  place ;  this  romantic  ad- 
venture shall  come  to  an  end.  I  will  it !  "  said  he,  with  an 
energy  which  only  those  can  feel  whose  will  is  law,  and  from 
whose  words  there  is  no  appeal. 


234  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

Frederick  took  his  hat  and  entered  the  vestibule,  where 
his  staff  awaited  to  accompany  him  to  the  parade.  The  king 
greeted  them  all  sternly,  and,  passing  by  them  rapidly,  he  de- 
scended the  steps. 

"  The  king  is  very  ungracious,"  whispered  the  officers 
amongst  each  other.  "  Woe  to  him  upon  whom  his  anger 
falls  to-day!" 

A  storm-cloud  did  indeed  rest  upon  the  brow  of  the  king ; 
his  eye  looked  fierce  and  dangerous.  The  regiment  stood  in 
line,  the  king  drew  up  in  front ;  suddenly  he  paused,  his  face 
grew  black — his  eye  had  found  an  object  for  destruction. 

"  Lieutenant  Trenck,"  said  he,  in  a  loud  and  threatening 
tone,  "  you  have  this  moment  arrived,  you  are  again  too  late. 
I  demand  of  my  officers  that  they  shall  be  punctual  in  my 
service.  More  than  ouce  I  have  shown  you  consideration, 
and  you  seem  to  be  incurable.  I  will  now  try  the  power  of 
severity.  Colonel  Jaschinsky,  Lieutenant  Trenck  is  in 
arrest,  till  you  bear  further  from  me;  take  bis  sword  from 
him,  and  transport  him  to  Potsdam." 

The  king  passed  on ;  the  cloud  had  discharged  itself ;  his 
brow  was  clear,  and  he  conversed  cordially  with  his  generals. 
He  did  not  give  one  glance  to  the  poor  young  officer,  who, 
pale  and  speechless,  handed  his  sword  to  his  malicious 
colonel,  looked  with  anguish  inexpressible  toward  the  castle 
of  Monbijou,  and  followed  the  two  officers  whose  duty  it  was 
to  conduct  him  to  Potsdam. 

That  afternoon  Mademoiselle  von  Marwitz  waited  in  vain 
for  her  lover;  that  afternoon  the  Princess  Amelia  shed  her 
first  tears;  and,  for  the  first  time,  entered  the  ballroom  by 
the  side  of  her  royal  mother,  with  dejected  mien  and  weary 
eyes.  The  glare  of  light,  the  sound  of  music,  the  laugh  and 
jest  of  the  gay  crowd,  filled  her  oppressed  heart  with  in- 
describable woe.  She  longed  to  utter  one  mad  cry  and  rush 
away,  far  away  from  all  this  pomp  and  splendor;  to  take 
refuge  in  her  dark  and  lonely  room;  to  weep,  to  pray,  and 
thus  exhaust  her  sorrow  and  her  fears. 

Perhaps  the  king  read  something  of  this  fierce  emotion  in 
the  face  of  the  princess.  He  drew  near  to  her,  and  taking 
h»r  hand  kindly,  he  led  her  away  from  her  mother.  "  My 
sister,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  but  in  a  tone  which  made  tha 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    235 

heart  of  the  princess  tremble,  "  my  sister,  banish  the  cloud 
from  your  brow,  and  call  the  smiles  to  your  young,  fresh  lips. 
It  ill  becomes  a  princess  to  be  seen  at  a  f^te  with  a  sad 
visage;  melancholy,  this  evening,  will  be  particularly  un- 
seemly. Be  on  your  guard;  you  must  not  decline  a  single 
dance;  I  wish  this  as  your  brother,  I  command  it  as  your 
king.  Conform  yourself  to  this.  Do  you  understand  fully 
all  that  I  have  said  to  you,  and  all  that  I  have  not  said  ?  " 

"  I  understand  all,  your  majesty,"  whispered  Amelia,  with 
the  greatest  difficulty  keeping  back  the  tears,  which,  "  like 
a  proud  river,  peering  o'er  its  boimds,"  filled  her  eyes  to 
overflowing. 

Princess  Amelia  danced  the  whole  evening,  she  appeared 
gay  and  happy;  but  it  did  not  escape  the  watchful  eye  of 
the  Baron  PoUnitz,  that  her  smile  was  forced  and  her  gayety 
assumed ;  that  her  ej'e  wandered  with  an  expression  of  terror 
toAvard  the  king,  who  was  ever  observing  her.  Suddenly  all 
was  changed,  and  she  became  radiant  with  the  fire  of  youth 
and  happiness.  Mademoiselle  von  Marwitz,  while  the  prin- 
cess stood  near  her  in  the  i^ra?ifajse,had  whispered:  "  Com- 
pose yourself,  your  royal  highness,  there  is  no  danger.  He 
has  been  arrested  for  some  small  military  offence,  that  is 
all ! "  Here  were  indeed  peace  and  comfort.  Amelia  had 
been  tortured  by  the  most  agonizing  fears,  and  this  news  was 
like  a  messenger  of  peace  and  love.  A  military  offence— 
that  was  a  small  affair.  A  few  days  of  light  confinement, 
and  he  would  return;  she  would  see  him  again;  and  those 
blessed  interviews,  those  glorious  hours  of  rapture,  would  be 
renewed. 

The  princess  had  deceived  herself.  Several  days  elapsed, 
and  Trenck  did  not  return,  and  she  knew  nothing  more  than 
that  he  was  in  Potsdam,  under  arrest.  Eight  days  had 
passed  on  leaden  wings,  and  still  he  came  not.  This  severe 
punishment  for  a  small  offence  began  to  be  resented  by 
Trenck's  comrades;  they  did  not  dare  to  murmur,  but  their 
countenances  were  clouded. 

"  Colonel  Jasehinsky,"  said  the  king,  on  the  ninth  morn- 
ing, "go  to  Trenck  and  counsel  him  to  ask  for  my  forgive- 
ness; say  to  him,  that  you  believe  I  will  forgive  him,  if  he 
asks  for  pardon.     You  shall  not  say  this  officially,  only  as  a 


236  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

friend.  Remark  well  what  he  shall  answer,  and  report  it  to 
me  strictly." 

The  colonel  returned  in  an  hour,  with  a  well-pleased 
smile. 

"  Well,  will  he  ask  for  forgiveness  ?  "  said  the  king. 

"No,  your  majesty;  he  asserts  that  for  a  small  fault  he 
has  been  too  harshly  punished,  and  he  will  not  bow  so  low 
as  to  plead  against  an  injustice." 

"  Let  him  remain  in  arrest,"  said  Frederick,  dismissing 
Jaschinsky. 

The  king  was  alone;  he  walked  up  and  down  with  his 
arms  folded,  as  was  his  custom,  when  engaged  in  deep 
thought.  "  A  head  of  iron,  a  heart  of  fire !  "  murmured  he ; 
"  both  so  young,  so  proud,  so  fond,  and  all  this  I  must  de- 
stroy. I  must  pluck  every  leaf  from  this  fair  blossom.  Sad 
mission !  Why  must  I  cease  to  be  a  man,  because  I  am  a 
king?" 

Eight  days  again  went  by — eight  days  of  fetes,  concerts, 
balls.  The  princess  dared  not  absent  herself;  she  appeared 
nightly  in  costly  toilet,  with  glowing  cheeks,  and  her  lovely 
hair  adorned  with  flowers,  but  her  xjheeks  were  rouged,  and 
her  sad  smile  accorded  but  little  with  her  flowers. 

The  king  had  carried  on  diligently  but  secretly  his  prepa- 
rations for  war,  under  the  shadow  of  these  luxurious  festivi- 
ties. Now  all  was  ready;  he  could  lay  aside  his  mask  and 
his  embroidered  dress,  and  assume  his  uniform.  The  ball- 
room was  closed,  the  music  silenced,  the  silver  melted  into 
thalers.  The  king  left  Berlin  and  joined  his  generals  at 
Potsdam.  On  the  day  of  his  arrival  he  commissioned  his  ad- 
jutant, General  von  Borck,  to  release  Trenck  from  arrest, 
and  send  him  to  Berlin  with  a  letter  to  the  queen-mother; 
he  was  to  have  leave  of  absence  till  the  next  day. 

"  I  will  see,  now,  if  they  understood  me,"  said  Frederick 
to  himself.  "  I  have  given  them  a  hard  lesson ;  if  they  do 
not  profit  by  it,  they  are  incurable,  and  force  me  to  ex- 
tremity." 

Alas!  they  had  not  understood  this  hard  lesson;  they 
were  not  wise,  not  prudent;  they  would  not  see  the  sharp 
sword  suspended  over  their  heads:  their  arms  were  madly 
thrown  around  each  other,  and  they  did  not  grasp  this  only 


FEEDERICK  TflE  GEEAT  AKD  HIS  FEIENDS.    237 

anchor  of  safety  which  the  fond  brother,  and  not  the  stern 
king,  had  extended  to  them.  They  were  lost!  they  must  go 
down  to  destruction ! 

The  next  morning,  during  the  parade,  Trenck  drew  near 
the  king.  He  had  just  returned  from  Berlin;  his  cheeks 
were  glowing  from  his  rapid  ride,  and  in  his  eyes  there  was 
still  a  shimmer  of  that  happiness  with  which  the  presence  of 
his  beloved  had  inspired  him. 

"  Your  majesty,  I  announce  myself,"  said  he,  in  a  fresh 
and  gay  voice. 

The  king  said  nothing.  He  looked  at  the  handsome, 
healthy,  and  radiant  youth  with  a  glance  of  profound  sym- 
pathy and  regret. 

Frederick  von  Trenck  saw  nothing  of  this.  "  Does  your 
majesty  command  me  to  join  my  regiment  at  Berlin  ? "  said 
he,  in  the  most  unembarrassed  manner. 

And  now  the  king's  eyes  flashed  with  rage.  "  From 
whence  come  you  ? "  said  he,  sternly. 

"  From  Berlin,  sire." 

"  Where  were  you  before  you  were  sent  to  Berlin  ? " 

"  In  arrest,  sire." 

"  Go,  then,  to  your  old  place — that  is  to  say,  in  arrest !  " 

Frederick  von  Trenck  remained  in  arrest  till  every  prepa- 
ration was  completed.  The  army  was  ready  to  march.  The 
king  assembled  his  officers,  and  announced  to  them  that  they 
were  bound  once  more  to  Silesia  to  bloody  battle,  and,  with 
God's  help,  to  glorious  victory.  On  that  day  Frederick  von 
Trenck  was  released  from  arrest.  The  king  received  him 
with  a  gracious  smile,  and  commanded  him  to  remain  near 
him.  Trenck's  comrades  envied  him  because  of  the  royal 
favor;  because  of  the  friendly  smiles  and  gracious  words 
which,  more  than  once  during  the  day,  the  king  directed  to 
him.  No  one  understood  how  Trenck  could  remain  sad  and 
silent  under  all  these  evidences  of  royal  favor ;  no  one  under- 
stood how  this  gallant  young  officer  could  enter  upon  this 
campaign  with  bowed  head  and  heavy  brow;  he  should  have 
sat  upon  his  horse  proud  and  erect — not  dreaming,  not  lost 
in  melancholy  musing. 

No  one  but  the  king  could  comprehend  this;  his  sym- 
pathetic soul  was  touched  by  every  emotion  of  his  young 


238  BERLIN  AND  SAN8-S0UCI,  ETC. 

oflBcer,  and  he  had  pity  for  every  pang  he  inflicted.  All  this 
vast  crowd  of  men  had  taken  leave  of  those  they  loved  and 
cherished.  Trenck  alone  had  been  denied  this  solace.  They 
had  all  received  a  love-greeting,  a  blessing,  and  a  last  fond 
kiss*— a  last  tear  to  encourage  them  in  battle,  perhaps  in 
death.  Trenck  had  no  kiss,  no  blessing,  no  farewell.  He 
had  said  farewell  to  fortune,  to  love  and  hope;  and  even 
now,  though  marching  to  battle,  perhaps  to  victory,  he  had 
no  future.  Tears  were  flowing  for  him,  and  tears  would  be 
his  only  inheritance. 


BOOK  m. 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE  ACTORS  IN  HALLE. 

His  excellency,  Gotshilf  Augustus  Franke,  president  of 
the  university  at  Halle,  bore  unmistakable  marks  of  anger 
and  excitement  upon  his  usually  calm  countenance,  as, 
seated  at  his  study-table,  he  glanced  from  time  to  time  at  a 
paper  spread  out  before  him. 

The  entrance  of  two  of  his  friends  and  colleagues  seemed 
scarcely  to  interrupt  his  disagreeable  train  of  thought,  as  he 
bade  them  good  morning  and  thanked  them  for  coming  to 
him  so  promptly. 

"  I  have  requested  your  presence,  my  friends,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  to  inform  you  of  the  receipt  of  the  answer  to  the 
petition  which  we  presented  to  the  General  Directory." 

"  Ah,  then,"  cried  Professor  Biennan,  "  our  troubles  are 
at  an  end !  " 

"  jN^ot  so,"  said  Professor  Franke,  gloomily ;  "  the  wishes 
of  the  servants  of  the  Lord  do  not  always  meet  with  the 
approbation  of  kings.  King  Frederick  the  Second  has  re- 
fused our  petition  which  was  presented  to  him  by  the  General 
Directory." 

"  Refused  it  ?  "  exclaimed  the  two  professors. 

"Yes,  refused  it;  he  declares  that  he  will  not  allow  the 
actors  to  be  expelled  from  Halle,  until  it  can  be  satisfactorily 
proved  that  they  have  occasioned  public  disturbances  in  our 
midst." 

"  This  is  unheard-of  injustice,"  exclaimed  Professor  Bier- 
man. 

"It  is  a  new  proof  of  the  king's  utter  godliness,"  etid 

?S9 


240  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

Professor  Heinrich.  "  He  has  already  gone  so  far  as  to  de- 
clare that  these  actors  shall  receive  Christian  burial." 

"  Astounding !  "  cried  the  president.  "  This  is  a  sacri- 
lege, which  will  assuredly  meet  a  just  punishment.  But,"  he 
continued  after  a  pause,  glancing  anxiously  around,  "  let  us 
not  forget  that  we  are  speaking  of  our  king." 

"  He  seems  to  forget  that  even  kings  are  but  the  servants 
of  the  Lord.  His  acts  show  a  determination  to  destroy  the 
church  and  its  supporters." 

"  Your  remark  is,  I  fear,  too  true,"  answered  Professor 
Franke ;  "  but  the  object  of  our  meeting  was  not  to  discuss 
the  king,  but  to  discover,  if  possible,  some  means  of  extricat- 
ing ourselves  from  the  disagreeable  position  in  which  we 
have  been  placed  by  the  unexpected  refusal  of  our  petition. 
We  were  so  confident  of  a  different  answer  to  our  just  de- 
mand, and  have  expressed  this  confidence  so  publicly,  that, 
when  the  result  is  known,  we  shall  be  ridiculed  by  both  citi- 
zens and  students." 

While  the  worthy  professors  were  still  deep  in  their  dis- 
cussion, they  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  servant, 
who  announced  that  there  was  a  gentleman  at  the  door,  who 
called  himself  Eckhof,  and  who  desired  to  be  admitted  to 
President  Franke. 

"  Eckhof ! "  exclaimed  all  three,  and  the  two  friends 
looked  mistrustfully  at  Franke. 

"  Eckhof!     Do  you  receive  Eckhof?  " 

"  Does  this  actor  d&re  to  cross  your  threshold  ?  " 

"  It  appears  so,"  cried  Franke,  angrily.  "  He  has  the 
boldness  to  force  himself  into  my  presence. — Let  him  enter; 
we  will  then  hear  how  he  justifies  this  intrusion." 

As  Eckhof  entered  the  room,  the  three  professors  re- 
mained seated,  as  if  awaiting  the  approach  of  a  criminal. 

Apparently  unmoved  by  this  want  of  courtesy,  Eckhof  ad- 
vanced to  the  president,  and,  after  making  a  respectful  bow, 
offered  him  his  hand. 

Franke,  ignoring  this  movement,  asked,  without  changing 
his  position,  to  what  singular  accident  he  might  attribute 
the  honor  of  this  visit. 

Eckhof  appeared  grieved  and  astonished  at  the  reception, 
but  replied,  "  I  came,  your  excellency,  tg  asj?  a  favor.    My 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    241 

friends  have  determined  to  give  me  a  benefit  to-night,  and 
we  have  selected  Voltaire's  wonderful  tragedy,  '  Britannicus,' 
for  our  performance.  The  tickets  are  all  sold,  two  hundred 
of  them  to  the  students.  There  is,  however,  one  thing  want- 
ing to  make  the  evening  all  I  would  wish,  and  that  is  the 
presence  of  your  excellency  and  some  of  the  professors  at  the 
representation.  Therefore  I  am  here,  and  have  taken  the 
liberty  of  bringing  these  tickets,  which  I  beg  you  will  accept 
for  the  use  of  yourself  and  your  brother  professors,"  and, 
bowing  once  more,  he  placed  the  tickets  upon  the  table  be- 
fore which  he  was  standing. 

"  Are  you  so  lost,  sir,  to  all  sense  of  propriety,"  cried 
Franke,  "  as  to  believe  that  I,  the  president  of  the  univer- 
sity, a  professor  of  theology,  and  a  doctor  of  philosophy, 
would  enter  your  unholy,  God-forsaken  theatre?  No,  sir, 
even  in  this  degenerate  age,  we  have  not  fallen  so  low  that 
the  men  of  God  are  to  be  found  in  such  places." 

"  These  are  very  hard  and  unchristian  words,  your  ex- 
cellency, Professor  and  Doctor  Franke,  words  which  no 
Christian,  no  man  of  learning,  no  gentleman  should  employ. 
But  I,  although  a  poor  actor,  bearing  no  distinguished  title, 
will  only  remember  what  is  becoming  for  a  Christian,  and 
will  say,  in  the  words  of  our  Lord,  '  Father,  forgive  them, 
they  know  not  what  they  do.'  " 

"  Those  holy  words  become  a  blasphemy  on  your  lips," 
said  Professor  Heinrich,  solemnly. 

"  And  still  I  repeat  them.  *  Father,  forgive  them,  they 
know  not  what  they  do.'  Do  you  not  know  that  in  judging 
me,  you  condemn  yourselves?  I  came  into  your  presence, 
hoping  to  reconcile  the  difiiculties  and  misunderstanding 
which  I  heard  had  been  occasioned  by  the  theatre  between  the 
professors  and  the  students;  but  you  have  treated  me  with 
scorn  and  declined  my  assistance,  and  nothing  remains  for 
me  but  to  bid  you  farewell,  most  learned  and  worthy  men." 

He  bowed  ceremoniously,  and  passed  out,  without  again 
glancing  at  the  indignant  professors,  and  joined  Joseph 
Fredersdorf,  who  awaited  him  below. 

"  Well,  did  they  accept  your  invitation  ?  " 

"  No,  my  friend,  all  happened  as  you  predicted ;  they  re- 
fused it  with  scorn  and  indignation." 


242  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OB, 

"Now  you  will  agree  with  me  that  we  can  hope  to  do 
nothing  in  Halle." 

"Yes,  you- were  right,  I  fear,  Joseph;  but  let  us  dismiss 
80  painful  a  subject.  We  will  how  go  to  our  rehearsal,  and 
we  must  perform  our  tragedy  with  such  care  and  in  such  a 
manner  that  the  thunders  of  applause  which  we  receive  will 
reach  the  ears  of  our  enemies." 

The  three  professors  were  still  in  the  room  of  the  presi- 
dent, in  earnest  consultation. 

"  So  this  miserable  Eckhof  is  to  have  what  he  calls  a 
benefit  to-night  ? "  said  the  president. 

"  Two  hundred  students  will  be  present,"  groaned  Pro- 
fessor Heinrich. 

"  And  our  lecture  halls  will  be  empty." 

"  We  must  exert  our  energies  and  put  a  stop  to  these 
proceedings;  it  is  scandalous  that  our  students  have  fol"- 
saken  their  studies  to  run  after  these  actors." 

"  Truly  something  must  be  done,  for  not  only  our  fame 
but  our  purses  are  at  stake." 

"  This  evil  cannot  continue ;  we  must  take  prompt  meas- 
ures to  root  it  out,"  said  the  president.  "  The  General  Di- 
rectory decided  that  the  actors  should  not  be  expelled  from 
Halle,  unless  it  could  be  proved  that  they  had  been  the  oc- 
casion of  some  public  difficulty.  It  is  therefore  necessary 
that  such  a  difficulty  should  arise.  According  to  Eckhof'a 
account,  there  will  be  two  hundred  students  at  the  theatre  to- 
night. There  are  still,  however,  nearly  one  hiindred  who 
will  not  be  present  at  his  performance.  Among  these  there 
must  be  some  brave,  determined,  devout  young  men,  who,  in 
the  name  of  Grod,  of  science,  and  of  their  teachers,  would 
willingly  enter  the  lists  against  these  actors,  and  create 
a  disturbance.  We  must  employ  some  of  these  young 
men  to  visit  the  theatre  to-night,  and  to  groan  and  hiss 
when  the  other  students  applaud.  This  will  be  all-suffi- 
cient to  raise  a  riot  amongst  these  hot-blooded  young  men. 
After  that,  our  course  is  plain;  we  have  but  to  send  in 
our  account  of  the  affair  to  the  General  Directory,  and 
there  will  be  no  danger  of  a  second  refusal  to  our  peti- 
tion." 

"  An  excellent  idea  I " 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT^  AND  filS  FRIENDS.    243 

"  I  am  afraid,  however,  it  will  be  difficult  to  find  any 
students  who  will  put  their  lives  in  such  jeopardy." 

"  We  must  seek  them  among  those  to  whose  advantage  it 
is  to  stand  well  with  the  president." 

"  There  are  some  who  receive  a  yearly  stipend  through 
me,  and  others  who  live  only  for  science-,  and  never  visit  the 
theatre.  I  name,  for  example,  the  industrious  young  student 
Lupinus.  I  shall  speak  to  him,  and  I  am  sure  he  will  not 
refuse  to  assist  us ;  he  is  small  and  not  very  strong,  it  is  true, 
but  he  stands  well  with  the  students,  and  will  carry  others 
with  him.  I  know  five  others  upon  whom  I  can  count,  and 
that  is  enough  for  our  purpose.  I  will  give  them  these  tickets 
which  Eckhof  left  here.  He  desired  that  we  should  make 
Use  of  them,  and  we  will  do  so,  but  to  serve  our  own  purpose, 
and  not  his." 

Having  arrived  at  this  happy  conclusion,  the  three  pro- 
fessors separated. 


CHAPTER  11. 

THE  STUDENT  LUlPINTrS. 

Young  Lupinus  sat  quiet  and  alone,  as  was  usual  with 
him,  in  his  room,  before  his  writing-table,  which  was  cov- 
ered with  books  and  folios.  He  was  thinner  and  paler  than 
when  we  first  met  him  in  Berlin.  His  deeply-sunken  eyes 
were  encircled  with  those  dark  rings  which  are  usually  the 
outward  sign  of  mental  suffering.  His  bloodless  lips  were 
firmly  pressed  together,  and  the  small  hand,  upon  which  his 
pale  brow  rested,  was  transparently  thin  and  white. 

Lupinus  was  working,  or  appeared  to  be  so.  Before  him 
lay  one  of  those  venerable  folios  which  excite  the  reverence 
of  the  learned.  The  eyes  of  the  young  man  rested,  it  is  true, 
upon  the  open  page,  but  so  long,  and  so  uninterruptedly,  that 
it  was  evident  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere. 

The  professors  would,  no  doubt,  hare  been  rejoiced  had 
they  seen  him  bent  thus  earnestly  and  attentively  over  this 
volume.  If,  however,  they  had  seen  what  really  claimed  his 
16 


244  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

attention,  they  would  have  been  seized  with  horror.  Upon  his 
open  book  lay  a  playbill,  the  bill  for  that  evening,  and  upon 
this  "  thing  of  horror  "  rested  the  eyes  of  the  young  student. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said,  after  a  long  pause,  "  I  will  not  go.  I 
will  not  be  overcome  by  my  heart,  after  the  fierce  struggle  of 
these  two  long,  fearful  months.  I  will  not,  I  dare  not  see 
Eckhof  again;  I  should  be  lost — undone.  Am  I  not  lost 
even  now  ?  Do  I  not  see  ever  before  me  those  great,  burning 
eyes ;  do  I  ever  cease  to  hear  his  soft,  melodious  voice,  which 
seems  to  sing  a  requiem  over  my  dead  happiness?  I  have 
striven  uselessly  against  my  fate — my  life  is  blighted.  I 
will  strive  no  longer,  but  I  will  die  honorably,  as  I  have  lived. 
I  only  pray  to  God  that  in  my  last  hour  I  may  not  curse  my 
father  with  my  dying  lips.  He  has  sinned  heavily  against 
me;  he  has  sacrificed  my  life  to  his  will.  May  God  forgive 
him !  Now,"  continued  Lupinus,  "  enough  of  complaints. 
My  resolution  is  taken;  I  will  not  go  to  the  theatre,  for  I 
dare  not  see  Eckhof  again." 

He  suddenly  seized  the  playbill,  and  pressed  the  spot 
where  Eckhofs  name  stood  again  and  again  to  his  lips,  then 
tore  the  paper  into  many  pieces,  and  threw  them  behind  him. 

"  So  long  as  I  live,  I  must  struggle — I  will  battle  bravely. 
My  heart  shall  die,  my  soul  awake  and  comfort  me." 

Again  he  bent  his  head  over  the  great  tome,  but  this 
time  a  light  knock  at  his  door  interrupted  him,  and  the  im- 
mediate entrance  of  Professor  Franke  filled  him  with  amaze- 
ment. 

"  My  visit  seems  to  astonish  you,"  said  the  professor,  in 
the  most  friendly  tone.  "  You  think  it  singular  that  the 
president  of  the  university  should  seek  out  one  of  the  stu- 
dents. Perhaps  it  would  be  so  in  an  ordinary  case;  but  for 
you,  Lupinus,  who  are  the  most  learned  and  honorable  young 
man  in  our  midst,  we  cannot  do  too  much  to  show  our  re- 
spect and  esteem." 

"  This  is  an  honor  which  almost  shames  me,"  said  Lu- 
pinus, blushing ;  "  an  honor  of  which,  I  fear,  I  am  unworthy." 

"  I  desire  to  give  you  a  still  greater  proof  of  my  esteem," 
continued  the  professor.  "  I  wish  to  make  you  my  confidant, 
and  inform  you  of  an  intrigue  which,  insignificant  as  it 
appears,  will  be  followed  by  important  results." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    245 

With  ready  words,  Franke  proceeded  to  explain  to  Lu- 
pinus  his  o^vn  views  with  regard  to  the  actors;  what  he 
considered  their  wretched  influence  over  the  students,  and 
also  the  ill-advised  decision  of  the  General  Directory.  He 
then  informed  Lupinus  of  his  plan  for  creating  a  disturb- 
ance in  the  theatre,  and  requested  his  assistance  in  carrying 
it  out. 

Lupinus  listened  with  horror  to  this  explanation  and  re- 
quest, but  he  controlled  himself,  and  quietly  received  th:; 
ticket  which  the  president  handed  him.  He  listened  silently 
to  the  further  details,  and  Franke  understood  his  silence  as 
a  respectful  assent. 

When  the  president  had  at  length  taken  leave,  and  Lu- 
pinus was  again  alone,  he  seized  the  ticket,  threw  it  on  the 
ground,  and  trampled  it  under  foot,  thus  visiting  upon  the 
inoffensive  ticket  the  scorn  he  had  not  dared  exhibit  to  the 
president. 

"  I — I  am  to  be  the  instrument  of  this  miserable  plot !  " 
he  cried  passionately.  "  Because  I  lead  a  lonely,  joyless  life, 
I  am  selected  to  execute  this  infamy.  A*h,  how  little  do  they 
know  me !  how  slight  a  knowledge  of  the  human  heart  have 
these  learned  professors!  Eckhof  in  danger,  and  I  remain 
silent  ?  Eckhof  threatened,  and  I  not  warn  him  ?  That  were 
a  treachery  against  myself,  a  crime  against  art  and  my  own 
poor  heart,  li  I  remain  silent,  I  become  an  accomplice  in 
this  vile  conspiracy."  At  this  thought,  he  took  his  hat,  and 
hurried  from  the  room. 

When  he  readied  the  door  of  Eckhof's  lodging,  he  hesi- 
tated. A  profound  pallor  succeeded  a  burning  glow  upon 
his  countenance,  and  he  murmured  to  himself :  "  Xo,  no ;  I 
have  not  the  strength  to  see  him  to-day.  I  should  die  if  his 
eyes  rested  upon  me.     I  will  go  to  Fredersdorf." 

Joseph  Fredersdorf  was  at  home,  and  received  Lupinus 
with  astonished  delight. 

"  The  holy  one  trusts  himself  in  the  den  of  the  wicked," 
he  said,  with  a  bright  smile.  "  This  is  an  unheard-of  event, 
which  doubtless  indicates  something  important." 

"  You  are  laughing  at  me,  but  you  are  right.  I  am 
here  for  a  purpose ;  nothing  unimportant  would  have  induced 
Kj©  tQ  conie  to  you  after  i^e  ungra^fuj  iQauiiey  in  which  I 


246  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

declined  your  friendly  advances.  But  I  am  sure  you  will 
forgive  the  intrusion  when  you  become  aware  of  the  motive 
which  has  led  me  to  you." 

With  hurried  words  and  frequent  interruptions  from 
Fredersdorf,  Lupinus  informed  his  friend  of  the  president's 
visit,  and  its  object. 

"  This  is  a  regular  conspiracy,"  said  Joseph,  as  Lupinus 
finished.  "  If  it  succeed,  the  punishment  of  the  actors  will 
be  the  result." 

"It  must  not  succeed — we  must  prevent  that.  The  first 
thing  to  be  done  is  to  gain  over  the  other  students  to  whom 
the  president  has  intrusted  this  plot.  We  must  either  do 
that  or  prevent  them  from  entering  the  theatre." 

"  But  if  we  can  do  neither  ?  " 

"  Then  we  must  allow  what  we  cannot  prevent,  but  we 
must  seek  to  avert  the  evil  consequences.  We  will  address 
ourselves  to  the  king,  and  inform  him  who  has  occasioned 
this  disturbance,  and  why  it  was  done." 

"  The  king  is  just,  and  happily  it  is  not  diflBcult  to  see 
him,  especially  for  me,  as  my  brother  is  his  private  secreta- 
ry. We  must  be  active,  and  the  victory  will  be  ours.  And 
now,  my  dear  friend,  for  you  must  allow  me  to  call  you 
so  from  this  day,  let  us  go  to  my  master,  Eckhof.  He 
must  thank  you  himself  for  this  kind  warning.  Come  to 
Eckhof." 

"  'No !  "  said  Lupinus,  "  it  is  a  matter  of  no  importance  to 
Eckhof,  who  has  given  the  information.  There  is  much  to 
be  done  to-day.  I  will  seek  to  gain  over  the  students;  you 
must  hasten  to  Eckhof." 

"  And  will  you  not  accompany  me  ?  " 

"  No,  my  friend,  not  to-day.  Let  us  await  the  events  of 
this  evening.  Perhaps  I  shall  ask  you  to  present  ^e  to  him 
to-morrow." 

"  Ah,  that  would  be  a  real  triumph  for  me ! " 

"  Let  us  first  take  care  that  this  plot  fails,  and  the  actors 
are  not  driven  from  Halle." 

"  When  we  have  accomplished  this,  will  you  promise  to 
walk  arm-in-arm  with  me  three  times  through  the  market- 
place?" 

"  Not  only  three  times,  but  as  often  as  you  will," 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    247 

"Now  I  feel  the  strength  of  Samson,  and  the  craft  of 
Delilah.  With  this  reward  before  me,  I  will  vanquish  all 
enemies." 


CHAPTER  m. 

THE  DISTURBANCE  IN  THE  THEATRE. 

So  dense  was  the  crowd  which  filled  the  streets  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  theatre  on  the  evening  of  Eckhof's 
benefit,  that  it  appeared  as  if  the  entire  population  of  the 
city  of  Halle  must  be  unanimous  in  wishing  to  do  honor  to 
this  wonderful  artiste. 

Eckhof  owed  this  triumph  to  the  students;  he  had  been 
their  darling  from  the  time  of  his  first  appearance  among 
them,  and  now  he  had  become  the  favorite  of  the  entire  city, 
with  the  exception  of  the  professors. 

Had  the  theatre  been  three  times  its  actual  size,  it  could 
scarcely  have  accommodated  all  who  had  made  applications 
for  tickets.  The  parterre  was  given  up  almost  entirely  to 
the  students,  upon  whose  countenances  was  plainly  seen 
their  deep  interest  in  the  evening's  entertainment. 

Here  and  there  among  them  a  few  earnest  faces  and 
darkly  flashing  eyes  might  be  seen,  but  they  seemed  to  arrest 
no  eye  but  that  of  Lupinus.  He  had  passed  every  counte- 
nance in  review,  and  had  instantly  recognized  by  their  ex- 
pression those  students  who  had  entered  into  the  plot  of 
the  president.  He  had  failed  in  his  effort  to  discover  them 
before  the  opening  of  the  theatre,  and  was,  therefore,  unable 
to  prevent  their  attendance. 

Professor  Franke  had  informed  these  students  that  they 
might  count  upon  the  assistance  of  Lupinus,  and  one  of  them 
had  just  whispered  to  him :  "  There  will  be  a  fierce  struggle, 
and  I  fear  we  shall  be  worsted,  as  our  number  is  so  small. 
Did  you  bring  yoftr  rapier  ?  " 

Before  Lupinus  could  answer,  he  was  separated  from  his 
questioner  by  a  crowd  of  students  pushing  their  way  forward. 
It  seemed  as  if  these  new  arrivals  had  not  come  to  the 


248  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCl;  OR, 

theatre  for  mere  amusement.  -They  glanced  threateningly 
around  them,  as  if  seeking  a  concealed  enemy.  In  passing 
Lupinus  they  greeted  him  with  a  few  low-spoken  words,  or 
a  warm  pressure  of  the  hand. 

These  students  were  the  special  friends  of  Joseph  Fre- 
dersdorf.  To  them  he  had  confided  the  danger  which  threat- 
ened the  actors  this  evening,  and  had  demanded  their  aid  in 
maintaining  peace  and  quiet.  They  scattered  about  amongst 
the  crowd  of  students,  and  whispered  to  their  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances :  "  No  disturbance  this  evening.  We  must  be 
quiet,  whatever  occurs." 

At  length  this  fluttering,  whispering  crowd  were  silenced 
by  the  ringing  of  the  bell  which  announced  the  rising  of  the 
curtain. 

The  piece  began,  and  never  had  Eckhof  displayed  such 
fire,  such  enthusiasm;  the  students  had  never  exhibited  such 
rapt  and  earnest  attention.  Their  excitement  was  shown 
by  their  flashing  eyes  and  glowing  cheeks,  and  the  low  mur^ 
murs  of  delight  which  arose  occasionally  from  this  dark 
mass.  But  at  length  a  moment  arrived  when  it  became  im- 
possible to  suppress  the  expression  of  their  delight,  and  for- 
getting all  resolve  to  the  contrary,  they  called  aloud,  amid 
thunders  of  applause,  for  their  favorite  Eckhof,  who  had 
just  left  the  stage. 

"  A  disturbance  is  now  unavoidable,"  said  Lupinus  to 
himself,  "  but  Eckhof  deserves  that  we  should  forget  all 
such  miserable  considerations.  To  die  for  him  were  to  be 
indeed  blessed." 

As  Eckhof  appeared  upon  the  stage,  in  answer  to  the  re- 
peated calls  upon  his  name,  Lupinus  gazed  upon  him  with  a 
beaming  countenance,  and  joined  the  others  in  their  cries  of 
delight. 

The  unalloyed  triumph  of  Eckhof  endured  but  for  one 
moment,  for  suddenly,  high  above  the  shouts  of  applause, 
arose  a  piercing,  derisive  whistle,  succeeded  by  hisses  and 
groans. 

As  if  by  magic,  the  aspect  of  the  parterre  was  changed. 
Every  student  looked  wrathfully  at  his  neighbor,  as  if  de- 
termined to  discover  and  punish  the  rash  offender  who  dared 
run  counter  to  the  general  approbation.     A  few  students 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     2:t9 

were  endeavoring  to  calm  the  rising  storm;  but  renewed 
hisses  and  groans  made  this  impossible,  and  one  voice  was 
heard  high  above  the  others :  "  You  hissed,  sir ;  I  forbid  it !  " 

"  And  I  forbid  you  to  applaud,"  was  the  answer.  "  So  long 
as  you  applaud,  I  will  hiss.     Accommodate  yourself  to  that." 

A  universal  cry  of  wrath  arose  as  if  from  one  voice.  The 
struggle  was  inevitable,  as  Lupinus  had  foreseen;  the  pay- 
terre  of  the  theatre  was  converted  into  a  battle-ground,  and 
a  fierce  combat  began  among  these  young,  hot-blooded  stu- 
dents. The  manager  ordered  the  lights  to  be  extinguished, 
and  the  police  to  be  called  in,  but  for  a  long  time  their  efforts 
were  ineffectual  in  subduing  the  contest. 

We  will  leave  the  theatre  with  Lupinus,  who,  as  soon  as 
he  could  extricate  himself  from  the  battling  crowd,  hurried 
through  the  streets,  toward  the  lodging  of  Fredersdorf. 

He  found  a  post-carriage  before  the  door,  and  Freders- 
dorf, dressed  for  a  journey,  was  just  leaving  the  house.  As 
he  was  stepping  into  the  carriage,  Lupinus  placed  his  hand 
upon  his  shoulder,  and  said,  "  Where  are  you  going,  Freders- 
dorf?" 

"  To  Berlin,  to  the  king." 

"  The  king  is  not  in  Berlin ;  he  is  in  Silesia,  with  the 
army." 

"I  received  letters  from  my  brother  to-day.  The  king 
has  gone  to  Berlin  for  a  few  days,  and  my  brother  is  with 
him.  I  will  have  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  an  audience.  I 
shall  give  the  king  a  correct  version  of  this  affair.  He  will 
perceive  that  this  disturbance  was  occasioned  by  the  pro- 
fessors, and  he  will  not  allow  us  to  be  driven  from  Halle. 
Farewell,  my  friend;  in  four  days  I  return,  and  you  shall 
hear  the  result  of  my  journey." 

"  I  intend  to  accopipany  you." 

"  You  intend  to  accompany  me  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  perhaps  you  will  need  a  witness ;  I  must  be  with 
you.     I  thought  you  would  have  counted  on  me." 

"  How  could  I  suppose  that  Lupinus,  the  learned  student, 
who  will  receive  his  diploma  at  the  end  of  a  few  weeks, 
would  tear  himself  from  the  arms  of  his  beloved  Science, 
to  go  with  a  comedian  before  the  king,  and  bear  witness  for 
the  hated  and  despised  actors  ? " 


250  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

"  Ah,  Fredersdorf ,"  said  Lupinus ;  "  if  you  consider 
Science  my  beloved,  I  fear  you  will  soon  have  occasion  to 
call  me  a  faithless  lover." 

"  What  can  you  mean  ?    How !  you  also — " 
"  Let  us  be  off,  my  friend.    We  will  discuss  that  in  the 
carriage," 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  FRIENDS. 

Four  days  after  the  unfortunate  occurrences  in  the 
theatre,  Fredersdorf  and  his  friend  Lupinus  returned  from 
their  secret  journey,  the  object  of  which  was  unknown  even 
to  Eckhof.  No  sooner  had  they  alighted  from  their  travel- 
ling carriage,  than  they  proceeded  arm-in-arm  to  Eckhof's 
lodging.  They  found  him  at  home  and  alone,  and  Freders- 
dorf saw  from  his  pale  countenance  and  lustreless  eyes  that 
his  sensitive,  easily  excited  nature  had  been  deeply  wounded 
by  the  late  events. 

"  I  bring  you  a  new  pupil,  my  master,"  said  Fredersdorf, 
drawing  Lupinus  forward,  who  stood  deeply  blushing  before 
Eckhof. 

Eckhof  smiled  sadly.  *'  A  pupil  who  desires  that  I  should 
lead  him  through  all  the  classes  and  degrees  of  the  school 
of  suffering  and  humiliation  ?  " 

"  A  young  student,  Eckhof,  who  up  to  this  time  has  been 
the  pride  and  delight  of  the  university;  who,  however,  now 
wishes  to  relinquish  this  honor,  and  become  one  of  your  fol- 
lowers. In  one  word,  this  is  Lupinus,  who  desires  to  waive 
his  right  to  the  prospective  dignity  of  the  title  of  doctor  of 
medicine,  and  to  become  your  pupil,  and  eventually  an 
actor." 

"  You  are  kind  and  tender-hearted  as  ever,  Joseph,"  said 
Eckhof,  gently.  "  You  know  that  I  bear  a  wound  in  my 
heart,  and  you  seek  to  heal  it  with  the  balm  of  your  friend- 
ship, and  this  kind  jest." 

"  This  is  no  jest,  but  a  reality.     Truly,  you  resemble  a 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    251 

pair  of  lovers,  who  have  not  the  courage  to  believe  in  their 
own  happiness.  Eckhof  will  not  believe  that  the  learned 
student  Lupinus  wishes  to  become  his  follower  and  pupil, 
and  Lupinus  stands  there  like  a  young  girl  who  has  received 
a  declaration  and  does  not  dare  say  yes.  Speak,  Lupinus, 
and  tell  this  doubter  that  you  have  come  voluntarily;  that 
I  have  not  pressed  you  into  the  service  as  Frederick  William 
impressed  soldiers.  Truly,  I  had  trouble  enough  in  divining 
from  your  broken  words  and  repressed  sighs,  your  blushes, 
and  your  deep  admiration  for  Eckhof,  this  secret  which  lay 
in  your  bosom.  But  now  that  it  has  been  discovered,  take 
courage,  my  friend,  and  raise  the  veil  which  conceals  your 
desires.". 

Lupinus  remained  speechless,  only  the  heaving  of  his 
breast  betrayed  his  excitement.  Eckhof  had  compassion  on 
the  evident  embarrassment  of  the  young  student,  and  ap- 
proaching him  laid  his  hand  gently  on  his  shoulder.  Lu- 
pinus trembled  and  grew  pale  under  Eckhof's  gentle,  sympa- 
thetic glance. 

"  Do  you  wish  really  to  become  an  actor  ? "  questioned 
Eckhof. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  in  a  low  voice,  '-  I  have  long  wished  it, 
I  have  struggled  with  this  wish,  and  thought  I  had  overcome 
it;  but  the  struggle  has  been  in  vain;  in  vain  have  I  buried 
myself  in  books  and  studies.  I  will  keep  up  this  internal 
strife  no  longer,  but  will  follow  the  inclinations  of  my  heart, 
which  lead  me  to  you.  In  this  new  life  I  shall  be  happy  and 
contented;  and  this  I  can  only  hope  to  be,  in  giving  my  life 
to  poetry  and  art." 

"  Ah,  he  speaks  and  thinks  as  I  did,"  said  Eckhof  to  him- 
self ;  then  turning  to  Lupinus,  he  said :  "  You  wish  to  be  an 
actor;  that  means,  you  desire  a  life  of  shame  and  humilia- 
tion. No  one  shall  become  an  actor  if  I  can  prevent  it.  Do 
you  know,  young  man,  that,  to  become  an  actor,  means  to 
have  the  whole  world,  and  perhaps  even  God,  arrayed  against 
you?" 

"You  are  unjust,  Eckhof,"  cried  Fredersdorf — "unjust 
to  yourself  and  to  the  world.  You  scorn  your  own  triumph, 
and  those  who  prepared  that  triumph  for  you." 

"  You  are  right  so  far,  my  friend,"  replied  Eckhof  sadly. 


252  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

"  But  is  it  not  also  true  that  we  are  persecuted  and  driven 
forth  ?  Has  it  not  been  proved  that  for  an  actor  there  is  no 
law,  no  justice  ?  " 

"  Who  knows,"  said  Fredersdorf,  smiling,  "  that  we  may 
not  still  triumph  over  these  miserable  conspirators  ? " 

"  Are  you  aware  that  the  theatre  has  been  closed,  and  our 
representations  forbidden  until  the  decision  of  the  General 
Assembly,  with  regard  to  the  late  disturbance  in  the  theatre, 
shall  be  known  ?  " 

"  The  General  Assembly  will  order  the  theatre  to  be 
opened,  and  our  representations  to  recommence." 

Eckhof  heard  this  with  a  cutting,  derisive  laugh.  "  Dear 
friend,  such  an  order  would  render  justice  to  the  scorned  and 
oppressed  on  earth !  "        ' 

"  And  they  will  receive  justice ;  but  it  must  be  sought  in 
the  right  place." 

"  Where  is  that  place  ?  " 

"  Where  the  king  is." 

"  Ah !  the  king !  That  may  be  true  in  your  case,  be- 
cause your  brother  is  his  private  secretary,  but  it  is  not  true 
for  me — not  true  for  the  German  actor." 

"  Eckhof,  you  are  again  unjust.  The  king  is  too  noble, 
too  free  from  prejudice,  to  be  deceived  by  the  dust  with 
which  these  learned  professors  have  sought  to  blind  him. 
The  king  knows  that  they  occasioned  the  late  disturbance  in 
the  theatre." 

"  Who  has  told  you  that?  " 

"  The  king  himself." 

"  You  have  seen  the  king  ?  " 

"  I  have.  I  hope  you  will  allow  now,  that  it  is  not  a  good 
thing  for  me  only  that  my  brother  is  private  secretary  to 
the  king.  I  have  seen  his  majesty,  and  I  informed  him  of 
this  wretched  intrigue  of  the  professors.  He  might  not  have 
put  entire  faith  in  the  accounts  of  the  actor,  Joseph  Freders- 
dorf, but  I  was  accompanied  by  a  responsible  witness,  who 
confirmed  my  words." 

"  Who  was  this  witness  ?  " 

"  This  is  he,"  said  Joseph,  drawing  Lupinus  forward. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Eckhof,  "  and  I  was  murmuring  and  com- 
plaining against  fate — I,  whose  friends  have  shown  their 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    253 

love  by  deeds  as  well  as  by  words — friends  who  worked  for 
jne  whilst  I  sat  with  folded  hands  bewailing  my  bad  for- 
tune. Forgive  me,  Joseph;  forgive  me,  my  young  friend; 
come  to  my  arms,  my  comrades,  my  brothers,  and  say  that 
you  will  forget  my  anger  and  injustice." 

He  opened  his  arms,  and  Joseph  threw  himself  upon  his 
breast. 

"  And  you,  my  friend,"  said  Eckhof,  turning  to  Lupinus, 
who  stood  pale  and  motionless  before  him. 

Joseph  drew  them  together  and  exclaimed :  "  Was  I  not 
right?  You  are  like  two  lovers;  Lupinus  acts  the  part  of 
the  coy  maiden  to  the  life.  I  do  not  believe,  Eckhof,  that 
you  will  ever  have  a  wife  who  will  love  you  more  entirely, 
more  tenderly,  than  our  young  doctor  does." 

Lupinus,  now  folded  in  the  arms  of  Eckhof,  trembled 
and  grew  pale  at  these  words  from  Joseph. 

"  Love  me,  love  me,  my  dear  young  friend,"  said  Eckhof, 
softly.  "  Friendship  is  the  purest,  the  holiest  gift  of  God. 
It  is  the  love  of  the  souls.  Be  faithful  to  me,  Lupinus,  as 
I  shall  be  to  you." 

"  I  will  be  faithful  so  long  as  I  live,  faithful  beyond  the 
grave,"  whispered  Lupinus. 

"  You  whispering,  dreaming  lovers,  are  forgetting  me," 
said  Joseph,  laughing.  "  You  must  not  forget,  Eckhof,  that 
the  future  of  our  friend  is  awaiting  your  decision.  Shall  he 
give  up  his  studies  as  I  did,  and  become  an  actor  ?  It  is  only 
proper  to  tell  you  that  the  cases  are  not  quite  parallel,  for  I 
was  a  very  lazy  student,  and  he  is  most  industrious.  I  was 
considered  a  good-for-nothing,  and  Lupinus  is  a  miracle  of 
knowledge  and  learning.  Shall  he  abandon  this  position 
and  follow  you  ?  " 

"  He  must  not,  indeed,"  said  Eckhof. 

"  You  will  not  receive  me  ?  "  said  Lupinus,  sadly. 

"  Not  at  present,  dear  friend ;  I  wish  to  be  reasonable 
and  careful,  and  perhaps  a  little  egotistical.  If  you  should 
leave  the  university  at  present,  you  give  the  professors  a  new 
weapon  against  me,  and  it  would  be  said  that  I  had  employed 
arts  to  seduce  you  from  the  paths  of  science.  And,  further, 
we  do  not  know  if  you  have  a  talent  for  our  profession ;  that 
must  first  be  proved.     Remain  for  the  present  true  to  your 


\ 


254  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

studies;  at  the  end  of  a  year,  during  which  time  you  shall 
pass  your  novitiate,  we  will  decide  this  question." 

"It  shall  be  as  you  say,"  said  Lupinus,  earnestly.  "I 
will  first  gain  my  diploma,  and  then  you  shall  decide  my 
future,  you  and  no  other." 

"  So  be  it/'  said  Joseph,  "  and  now  let  us  drink  to  your 
future  success,  Lupinus,  in  a  glass  of  champagne,  and  to  the 
confusion  of  the  professors,  who  are  awaiting  with  such 
proud  confidence  the  decision  of  the  General  Assembly." 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  ORDKR  OP  THE  KING. 

Joseph  Fredersdorf  was  quite  right  in  saying  that  the 
professors  awaited  the  decision  of  the  General  Assembly 
with  proud  confidence.  It  did  not  occur  to  them  that  it 
might  be  unfavorable  to  their  wishes.  A  public  disturbance 
had  arisen  between  the  students,  occasioned  by  a  performance 
in  the  theatre;  this  was  a  sufficient  cause  for  the  banish- 
ment of  the  actors.  An  account  of  the  riot  had  been  already 
forwarded  by  the  Senate  of  the  University  to  the  General 
Assembly,  and  the  worthy  gentlemen  who  composed  this  body 
did  not  doubt  the  fulfilment  of  their  request,  that  the  actors 
should  be  removed  from  Halle. 

President  Franke  received  with  the  utmost  composure 
the  official  dispatch,  containing  the  decision  of  the  General 
Assembly,  and  called  an  immediate  meeting  of  the  Senate  for 
its  perusal.  Whilst  awaiting  the  opening  of  the  meeting. 
Professor  Heinrich  was  expressing  to  his  friend,  Professor 
Bierman,  his  impatience  to  know  the  contents  of  this  dis- 
patch. 

"  I  am  not  at  all  impatient,"  replied  Bierman.  "  I  am 
convinced  the  decision  will  be  perfectly  satisfactory  to  us; 
in  fact,  that  it  commands  the  departure  of  these  actors  from 
our  city." 

"  Have  you  no  doubts  ?    Do  you  not  fear  that  the  king. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    255 

in  his  hatred  for  the  theologians,  and  his  admiration  for 
these  comedians,  may  decide  in  their  favor  rather  than  in 
ours?" 

"Dear  friend,  such  a  doubt  would  be  tmworthy  the  dig- 
nity of  our  position.  The  king,  seeing  that  the  matter  has 
gone  so  far,  must  decide  in  our  favor.  And  here  is  our 
worthy  president;  look  at  his  proud  and  cheerful  aspect, 
and  judge  whether  the  document  he  holds  in  his  hand  can  be 
unfavorable." 

"He  does,  indeed,  seem  contented,''  answered  Professor 
Heinrich,  as  he  and  his  friend  moved  forward  to  meet  the 
president. 

With  great  solemnity  the  senators  proceeded  to  take  their 
seats  in  the  arm-chairs  which  encircled  a  high  table  standing 
in  the  centre  of  the  room. 

After  a  moment's  silence  the  president  addressed  them: 
**  Worthy  friends  and  colleagues,  I  have  to  announce  to  you 
that  the  hour  has  at  length  arrived  which  is  to  end  all  the 
doubts  and  cares  that  have  oppressed  our  hearts  for  many 
months.  We  have  had  a  bitter  struggle ;  we  have  striven  to 
preserve  the  honor  of  our  university  and  the  well-being  of 
the  youth  committed  to  our  care.  The  men  who  work  with 
such  noble  motives  must  eventually  triumph." 

"  The  decision  is,  then,  in  our  favor  ? "  asked  Professor 
Heinrich,  no  longer  able  to  subdue  his  impatient  curiosity. 
"  Your  excellency  has  already  read  the  dispatch  of  the  Gen- 
eral Assembly,  and  are  acquainted  with  its  contents." 

"  I  have  not  read  it,  and  I  do  not  know  its  contents.  But 
I  rely  upon  our  worthy  cause,  and  the  king's  sense  of  justice. 
These  comedians  were  the  occasion  of  a  public  disturbance — 
it  is,  therefore,  proper  that  they  should  be  punished.  As 
justice  is  on  our  side,  I  cannot  doubt  the  result.  I  have 
not  read  this  dispatch,  for  I  considered  it  more  in  accord- 
ance with  the  dignity  of  this  body  that  the  seal  should  be 
broken  in  your  presence,  and  I  now  beg  that  you.  Professor 
Bierman,  as  the  secretary  of  the  Senate,  will  read  to  us 
this  dispatch  from  the  General  Assembly." 

As  Bierman  broke  the  seal,  all  eyes  were  turned  on  him. 
«nd  in  this  moment  of  expectation  the  professors  were  aware 
that  their  hearts  beat  louder  and  more  rapidly.    Suddenly 


256  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

Professor  Bierman  uttered  a  cry,  a  cry  of  horror,  which 
awakened  an  echo  in  every  breast. 

"  Proceed,"  commanded  the  president,  with  stony  com- 
posure. 

"  I  cannot,"  murmured  Bierman,  as  he  sank  back  power- 
less in  his  chair. 

"  Then  I  will  read  it  myself,"  cried  Professor  Heinrich, 
forgetting  all  other  considerations  in  his  determination  to 
satisfy  his  curiosity.  "  I  will  read  it,"  he  repeated,  as  he 
took  the  paper  from  the  trembling  hands  of  his  friend. 

"  Head,"  said  the  president,  in  a  low  voice. 

Professor  Heinrich  then  proceeded  to  read  aloud  the 
following  dispatch  sent  by  the  GLeneral  Assembly  to  the 
Senate  of  the  University  at  Halle. 

"  We  find  it  most  unworthy  that  you,  in  your  complaint 
against  the  comedians  now  in  Halle,  should  endeavor  to  cast 
on  them  the  blame  of  the  late  disturbance  in  the  theatre. 
We  are  well  aware  of  the  cause  of  this  disturbance,  and  now 
declare  that  the  actors  shall  not  be  banished  from  Halle." 

A  fearful  pause  followed  this  reading.  The  president 
perceived  that  Heinrich  was  still  looking  at  the  paper  he 
held. 

"  Is  that  all  ?    Have  you  finished  the  dispatch  ?  " 

"  No,  your  excellency ;  there  is  a  note  on  the  margin,  in 
the  writing  of  the  king." 

"  Read  it  aloud." 

"  Your  excellency,  the  king  has  made  use  of  some  ex- 
pressions that  I  cannot  bring  my  lips  to  utter." 

"  The  king  is  our  master ;  we  must  hear  what  he  has  to 
say  in  all  humility." 

"  You  command  me,  then,  to  proceed  ?  " 

"  I  command  it."  -" 

"  *  This  pack  of  theologians  have  caused  the  whole  diffi- 
culty. The  actors  shall  continue  to  play,  and  Mr.  Franke, 
or  whatever  else  the  scamp  calls  himself,  shall  make  pub- 
lic reparation,  by  visiting  the  theatre;  and  I  must  receive 
information  from  the  actors  themselves  that  he  has  done 

80.'  " 

A  murmur  of  horror  succeeded  the  reading  of  this  order. 
Ottly  Pyeei^ent  Frftnke  maintained  his  erect  poaitipn,  an^ 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    257 

continued  looking  straight  before  him  at  Professor  Heinrieh, 
who  had  just  dropped  the  fatal  paper.  • 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  asked  the  president. 

"  It  is,  your  excellency." 

He  bowed  gravely,  and,  rising  from  his  chair,  glanced 
slowly  from  one  face  to  another.  The  senators  cast  down 
their  eyes  before  this  glance,  not  from  fear  or  shame,  but 
from  terror  at  the  fearful  expression  of  the  president's 
countenance. 

"  If  that  is  all,  it  is  time  for  me  to  go,"  he  said  solemnly, 
as  he  pushed  his  chair  back,  and  slowly  and  stiffly  walked 
forward,  like  an  automaton  which  has  been  set  in  motion  by 
machinery. 

"  This  has  affected  his  brain.  He  will  have  a  paralytic 
stroke,"  murmured  the  senators  to  one  another. 

The  president  did  not  hear  them,  nor  did  he  seem  to  know 
what  he  wished.  He  was  now  standing  motionless  a  few 
steps  from  the  table. 

The  professors  were  terrified  at  this  spectacle,  and  only 
Heinrieh  had  the  courage  to  advance  to  his  side  and  ask — 
"  Where  do  you  wish  to  go,  my  dear  friend  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  obey  the  command  of  the  king — I  am  going  to 
the  theatre,"  he  replied,  with  a  cry  of  despair,  and  then  fell 
fainting  into  the  arms  of  his  friend. 

Professor  Bierman  instantly  summoned  assistance,  and 
the  insensible  form  of  the  president  was  borne  from  the 
room,  and  a  messenger  sent  for  a  physician. 

When  the  professors  had  become  somewhat  composed, 
Bierman  announced  to  them  that  he  had  a  proposition  to 
make  which  he  hoped  would  meet  with  their  approval. 

"  You  doubtless  agree  with  me,  my  friends,  in  saying 
that  this  cruel  sentence  of  the  king  raust  not  be  carried  out. 
Our  friend  the  president  would  not  suffer  alone  in  its  fulfil- 
ment— the  honor  of  the  university  would  receive  an  irrepa- 
rable wound.  We  must  employ  every  effort  to  alter  this  de- 
cision. It  is,  in  my  opinion,  fortunate  that  our  worthy 
friend  has  sunk  for  the  time  beneath  this  blow.  His  illness 
relieves  him  from  the  necessity  of  an  immediate  appearance 
in  the  theatre ;  and,  whether  ill  or  not,  he  must  remain  in  his 
bed  until  the  king  can  be  induced  to  alter  his  sentence.     We 


258  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OB, 

will  prepare  a  petition  and  send  it  immediately  to  the 
king." 

The  proposal  of  Bierman  met  with  entire  approval;  and 
the  petition  was  prepared,  signed  by  all  the  professors,  and 
sent  to  Berlin  by  one  of  their  niimber.  The  king,  however, 
declined  to  receive  him,  and  his  only  answer  was  that  in 
eight  days  the  Senate  would  be  made  acquainted  with  his 
final  decision. 

The  professors  convinced  themselves  that  there  was  com- 
fort in  this  answer.  The  king  evidently  did  not  intend  to 
insist  on  the  execution  of  the  first  sentence,  or  he  would 
simply  have  ordered  its  fulfilment. 

The  professors  were  hopeful,  and  no  longer  opposed  the 
nightly  visits  of  the  students  to  the  theatre.  A  few  of  them 
determined  to  visit  the  theatre  themselves,  and  see  this 
Eckhof  who  had  caused  them  so  much  sorrow  and  trouble. 
The  students  were  delighted  at  this  concession,  and  consid- 
ered the  professors  the  most  enlightened  and  unprejudiced 
of  the  whole  body.  To  show  their  apreciation  of  this,  they 
attended  their  lectures  on  the  following  day. 

This  unexpected  result  made  the  other  professors  falter 
in  their  determination.  Their  temporal  good  depended  very 
much  on  the  attendance  of  the  students  upon  their  lectures. 
They  found  that  they  must  consent  to  listen  to  Eckhof  and 
his  companions,  if  they  would  be  heard  themselves;  and, 
at  length,  they  determined  to  make  peace  with  the  students 
and  actors,  and  to  visit  the  theatre. 

Peace  was  now  proclaimed,  and  Eckhof,  whose  noble  and 
tender  heart  was  filled  with  joy  and  gratitude,  played  "  Bri- 
tannicus  "  with  such  power  and  feeling  that  he  even  won  ap- 
plause from  the  professors. 

President  Franke  was  still  confined  to  his  room.  The 
terror  of  a  forced  visit  to  the  theatre,  which  would  be  known 
as  an  expiation  for  his  fault,  made  his  nights  sleepless  and 
his  days  most  wretched. 

At  length,  however,  the  answer  to  the  petition  arrived, 
and,  to  his  great  relief,  he  found  himself  condemned  to  pay 
a  fine  of  twenty  thalers  to  the  almshouse  of  Halle;  and  no 
further  m^ition  was  made  of  his  visit  to  the  theatre. 


FREi)ERiCK  THE  ailEAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    259 
CHAPTER  VL 

THE  BATTLE  OF  SOHR. 

Deep  silence  reigned  in  the  encampment  whicli  the 
Prussians  had  established  near  the  village  of  Sohr.  The 
brave  soldiers,  wearied  with  their  long  march,  were  sleeping 
quietly,  although  they  knew  that  the  Austrian  army,  which 
far  outnumbered  their  own,  was  hastening  toward  them, 
and  would  attack  them  within  a  few  •hours.  This  knowl- 
edge did  not  alarm  them,  they  had  not  so  soon  forgotten 
their  signal  victory  over  Karl  von  Lothringen,  with  his  Aus- 
trfajis,  Bavarians,  and  Saxons,  at  Hohenfriedberg.  They 
did  not  fear  a  defeat  at  Sohr,  although  the  grand  duke  was 
now  the  leader  of  forty  thousand  men,  and  Frederick's  army 
had  been  so  diminished  by  the  forces  he  had  sent  to  Saxony 
and  Silesia,  that  it  consisted  of  scarcely  twenty  thousand 
men.  The  Prussian  soldiers  relied  confidently  upon  the  good 
fortune  and  the  strategic  talent  of  their  king;  they  could 
sleep  quietly,  for  Frederick  watched  beside  them. 

The  watch-fires  had  died  out,  the  lights  in  the  tents  of  the 
officers  were  extinguished.  N^ow  and  then  might  be  heard 
the  measured  tread  of  a  sentinel,  or  the  loud  breathing  of 
some  soldier  dreaming  perhaps  of  his  distant  home  or  for- 
saken bride.  'No  other  sounds  broke  upon  the  night  air. 
The  Prussian  army  slept.  Alas!  how  many  of  them  were 
now  dreaming  their  last  earthly  dream;  how  many  on  the 
morrow  would  lie  with  gaping  wounds  upon  a  bloody  battle- 
ground, with  staring  glassy  eyes  turned  upward,  and  no  one 
near  to  wipe  the  death-drops  from  their  brows!  They 
know  not,  they  care  not,  they  are  lost  in  sleep.  There  can 
be  no  pressing  danger,  for  the  king  is  in  their  midst — the 
light  has  been  extinguished  in  his  tent  also.  He  sleeps  with 
his  army. 

It  is  midnight,  the  hour  of  wandering  spirits.  Is  that  a 
spirit  which  has  just  left  so  noiselessly  the  tent  of  the  king, 
and  has  so  quickly  vanished  in  the  tent  of  the  adjutant,  which 
adjoins  that  of  the  king?  No,  not  vanished,  for  it  has  al- 
ready reappeared;  but  there  are  now  three  of  these  shadowy 
17 


2G0  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

beings  quietly  approaching  the  white  tents  of  the  officers, 
disappearing  for  an  instant  into  each  tent,  then  reappearing, 
and  continuing  their  course. 

Where  they  have  been  may  now  be  heard  a  low  whisper- 
ing and  moving.  Soon  another  dark  figure  is  visible;  it 
moves  cautiously  forward  toward  the  soldiers'  tents  in  which 
it  disappears,  and  from  these  may  be  heard  the  same  low 
whispering,  and  like  a  murmuring  brook  this  babbling  glides 
through  the  entire  camp,  always  following  the  first  three 
shadows  who  have  gone  noiselessly  and  with  the  rapidity  of 
the  wind  through  the  camp. 

Why  have  these  three  shadows  driven  sleep  from  the  en- 
campment? why  have  they  ordered"  the  horses  to  be  pre- 
pared ?  No  one  has  been  told  to  mount,  no  "  Forward  I  " 
has  been  thundered  through  the  camp ;  and  but  for  the  dark 
figures  which  may  now  be  seen  on  all  sides,  the  silence  is  so 
profound  that  one  might  almost  think  the  camp  still  buried 
in  sl^ep. 

The  Austrians,  who  can  only  view  the  camp  from  a  dis- 
tance, think,  no  doubt,  their  enemy  still  sleeps. 

The  silence  of  the  camp  is  at  last  broken  by  a  sound  like 
the  heavy  roll  of  thunder;  and  if  the  moon  were  now  to 
break  through  the  clouds,  it  would  gleam  upon  eight  field- 
pieces  which  are  being  carefully  drawn  behind  a  little  eleva- 
tion in  the  ground,  which  lies  opposite  the  defile  occupied  by 
the  Austrians. 

Once  again  all  is  silent,  and  the  horizon  begins  to  clear; 
a  few  rosy  clouds  fly  across  the  heavens,  the  veil  of  night  is 
raised,  the  stars  pale  as  the  morning  arrays  herself  with  hues 
of  purple  and  gold. 

It  is  morning.  Let  us  look  again  at  the  camp  of  the 
Prussian  soldiers.  Are  they  sleeping?  No,  no;  all  are 
awake;  all  prepared  for  action,  but  all  silent  and  motionless 
as  if  bound  by  a  charm. 

And  here  is  the  enchanter  who  has  awakened  all  these 
thousands  to  life,  and  still  binds  them  to  silence.  His  coun- 
tenance is  bright  and  clear,  his  glance  seems  to  pierce  the 
hill  which  divides  him  from  the  enemy,  and  to  divine  the 
moment  of  their  attack.  There  is  the  ruler,  whose  will  is 
law  to  all  these  thousands  of  men,  whose  word  is  now  to  lead 


FREDERICK  THE    GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    20 1 

theifi  to  death,  to  a  shameful  defeat,  or  to  a  glorious  victory. 
There  is  the  king.  He  knows  that  within  a  few  moments 
the  Austrians  will  attack  his  army,  but  he  does  not  tremble. 

The  Austrians  expect  to  surprise  a  sleeping  foe;  but  the 
king,  who  is  the  father  of  his  people,  has  himself,  with  his 
two  adjutants,  Trenck  and  Standnitz,  awakened  them  from 
their  slumbers;  it  was  he  who  directed  the  placing  of  can- 
non at  the  point  upon  which  the  Austrian  cavalry  is  certain 
to  make  their  descent  upon  the  sleeping  camp. 

The  king  was  right.  Do  you  not  hear  the  heavy  tramp  of 
cavalry,  the  thunder  of  those  cannon? 

The  Austrians  are  pressing  through  the  narrow  defile; 
this  is  the  thunder  of  their  cannon,  with  which  they  thought 
to  awaken  the  Prussians. 

Now  the  king  raises  his  sword;  the  sign  is  given.  The 
Austrian  cavalry  may  advance,  for  the  Prussians  are  now  in 
motion;  now  rushing  forward,  pressing  toward  the  defile, 
before  which  their  enemy  are  quietly  forming  their  line  of 
battle,  although  scarcely  fearing  a  conflict,  for  are  the  Prus- 
sians not  sleeping?     They  expected  a  bloodless  victory. 

But  the  Prussians  are  awake;  it  is  they  who  attack  the 
surprised  Austrians.  They  have  already  driven  the  cavalry 
back  into  the  narrow  defile.  The  thunders  of  their  cannon 
are  now  heard,  and  they  bear  the  appalling  news  to  the  Aus- 
trians that  the  Prussians  are  not  sleeping. 

Karl  von  Lothringen,  you  should  have  known  the  Prus- 
sians better.  Did  not  they  out-manoeuvre  you  two  short 
months  since  ?  Did  not  Frederick  make  a  pretence  of  re- 
treating, in  order  to  draw  you  on  out  of  your  favorable  posi- 
tion, and  then  attack  you,  and  win,  in  a  few  short  morning 
hours,  a  glorious  victory?  Karl  von  Lothringen,  you  should 
have  remembered  Hohenfriedberg.  You  should  not  have  im- 
agined that  the  Prussians  slept  while  the  Austrians  stood  be- 
fore them  in  battle  array.  The  Prussians  are  indeed  awake. 
Listen  to  their  joyous  shouts,  look  at  their  flashing  swords ! 

Karl  von  Lothringen,  where  are  your  troops  which  were 
intended  to  attack  the  enemy  in  the  rear?  Where  is  Trenck 
with  his  pandours?  where  General  Xadasti,  with  his  well- 
disciplined  regiments?  If  your  hope  is  in  these,  then  de- 
spair, and  thrust  your  sword  in  its  sheath. 


262  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

The  Prussians  have  deserted  their  camp;  the  enemy  is 
before  them;  in  their  pursuit  they  have  left  all  behind  them; 
they  thought  not  of  earthly  possessions,  but  of  honor  and  vic- 
tory. Every  thing  was  left  in  the  camp.  The  king's  entire 
camp-furniture,  and  even  the  army  treasure. 

Karl  von  Lothringen,  hope  nothing  from  Trenck  and  his 
pandours;  nothing  from  Nadasti  and  his  regiments.  They 
have  obeyed  your  commands;  they  have  pressed  into  the 
enemy's  camp;  they  are  taking  prizes,  plundering  greedily. 
What  care  they  for  the  battle  which  thunders  and  roars  be- 
fore them?  the  cannon-balls  do  not  reach  them;  they  can 
enrich  themselves  in  the  camp  of  the  Prussians  whilst  these 
are  gaining  a  glorious  victory. 

The  battle  is  not  yet  decided.  "If  Trenck  and  Nadasti 
attack  our  rear,"  said  the  king,  "  we  are  lost." 

At  this  moment  an  adjutant  annomiced  to  him  that 
Trenck  and  Nadasti  were  plundering  the  Prussian  camp. 

The  king's  countenance  beamed  with  delight.  "Let 
them  plunder,"  he  said,  joyfully,  "  whilst  they  are  so  oc- 
cupied they  will  not  interfere  with  our  important  work. 
Whilst  they  plunder,  we  will  conquer." 

Yes,  the  battle  is  decided;  while  the  Austrians  plun- 
dered, the  Prussians  conquered.  Karl  von  Lothringen, 
overcome  with  grief  and  shame,  is  retreating  with  his  dis- 
organized troops. 

The  Prussians  have  gained  the  day,  but  it  was  a  fearful 
victory,  a  murderous  battle  between  brothers,  German 
against  German,  brother  against  brother. 

The  Duke  Albrecht,  of  Brunswick,  has  fallen  by  the  side 
of  the  king ;  his  brother  Ludwig  lies  covered  with  wounds  in 
the  Austrian  camp. 

Poor  Queen  Elizabeth  Christine,  your  husband  has  con- 
quered, but  you  have  both  paid  dearly  for  the  victory.  The 
king  has  lost  his  tent,  his  camp-furniture,  and  eighty  thou- 
sand ducats,  and  the  baggage  of  the  entire  army.  You  have 
lost  one  brother,  and  the  other  lies  covered  with  bloody 
wounds.  The  king  has  gained  the  battle.  His  is  the  fame 
and  honor.  You,  poor  queen,  you  have  only  a  new  grief. 
Yours  are  the  tears  and  the  pain. 


FEEDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    263 
CHAPTER    VII. 

AFTER  THE  BATTLE. 

The  Prussians  were  resting  from  their  labors,  not  in 
comfortable  tents  or  on  soft  cushions,  but  on  the  hard 
ground,  with  no  protection  against  sun  and  wind,  and  not  ^ 
too  distant  from  the  battle-field  to  hear  the  heart-rending 
cries  and  groans  of  their  dying  comrades.  But  even  these 
cries  and  groans  were  to  the  triumphant  Prussians  the  sign 
of  their  glorious  victory,  and  awoke  in  those  who  had  es- 
caped unscathed  through  tliis  terrible  fire  a  feeling  of  deep 
gratitude. 

After  these  fearful  hours  of  excitement  followed  a  gen- 
eral lassitude,  a  positive  physical  necessity  for  rest.  But, 
alas !  there  was  something  which  drove  sleep  from  their  eye- 
lids, and  increased  the  weariness  of  their  bodies.  This  was 
hunger.  The  pandours  had  thoroughly  plundered  the  Prus- 
sian camp;  they  had  taken  not  only  the  baggage  of  the  poor 
soldiers,  but  all  their  provisions. 

The  Prussians,  who  had  obtained  so  glorious  a  triumph 
in  the  morning,  were  now  looking  forward  to  a  day  of  fast- 
ing, while  the  Austrians,  in  spite  of  their  defeat,  were  con- 
soling themselves  with  the  provisions  which  they  had  taken 
from  the  Prussians.  Happy  was  he  who  had  a  piece  of  bread 
in  his  knapsack,  or  whose  tent  had  been  overlooked  or  for- 
gotten by  the  plunderers ;  but  few  had  been  so  fortunate,  and 
these  in  the  egotism  of  hunger  refused  to  share  their  pre- 
cious treasure,  even  with  their  dearest  friend. 

King  Frederick  was  not  among  the  fortunate.     The  vic- 
tory was  his,  but  his  laurel-wreath  could  not  be  transformed 
into  bread.     He  had  said  in  vain  to  his  generals  and  adju- 
^^.lants,  "  We  will  dine."     There  was  nothing  to  set  before  the 
king. 

When  General  Eothenberg  brought  this  disagreeable 
news  to  the  king,  he  said,  laughing  gayly :  "  Let  us  imagine 
ourselves  to  be  Catholics,  my  friends,  for  the  present,  and 
it  will  be  quite  in  order  that  we  should  fast  on  the  day  of 
a  glorious  victory.    I  will  be  quite  contented  with  a  piece  of 


264  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OE, 

bread,  and  I  suppose  that  can  be  found  somewhere  for  the 
King  of  Prussia." 

But  General  Rothenberg's  order  to  the  royal  cook  to 
satisfy  the  simple  demand  of  his  master  was  in  vain.  The 
cook  had  nothing,  neither  meat,  fruit,  nor  bread. 

"  I  will  not  return  empty-handed  to  the  king,"  said  Roth- 
enberg,  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  "  I  would  sooner  part  with 
my  last  ducat  to  the  first  soldier  I  meet  who  has  a  piece  of 
bread." 

The  general  then  passed,  with  inquisitive  glances,  through 
the  group  of  soldiers  who  were  talking  over  the  events  of  the 
last  few  hours.  At  last  he  perceived  a  soldier  who  was  not 
talking,  but  was  ogling  a  piece  of  bread  which  he  seemed 
preparing  to  devour.  With  a  hasty  spring  the  general  was 
at  his  side,  his  hand  upon  the  bread. 

"  I  will  give  you  two  ducats  for  this  piece  of  bread,  my 
friend." 

"  Two  ducats !  what  should  I  do  with  two  ducats  ? "  he 
asked,  with  a  scornful  laugh.  "  I  cannot  eat  your  ducats, 
general,  and  my  bread  is  more  precious  to  me  than  a  hand- 
ful of  ducats." 

"  If  you  will  not  give  it  for  gold,  then  give  it  for  love," 
cried  the  general.  "  For  love  of  your  king  who  is  hungry, 
and  has  nothing  to  satisfy  his  craving." 

The  countenance  of  the  soldier,  which  had  been  so  smil- 
ing, became  earnest,  and  he  murmured  thoughtfully  to  him- 
self, "  The  king  has  no  bread !  " 

"  The  king  is  hungry,"  repeated  Rothenberg,  almost  im- 
ploringly. 

"  The  king  is  hungry,"  murmured  the  soldier,  sadly,  as 
he  glanced  at  the  bread  in  his  hand.  Then,  with  quiet  de- 
termination, he  cut  the  loaf  in  two  pieces,  and  handing  one  to 
the  general,  he  said,  "  I  will  give  you  half  of  my  bread,  that 
is  really  all  I  can  do  for  the  king.  Take  it,  general,  the  mat*— 
ter  is  settled.     I  will  give  no  more." 

"I  desire  no  more,"  said  Rothenberg,  as  he  hurried  off 
with  the  bread  to  the  newly-erected  tent  of  the  king. 

The  soldier  looked  smilingly  after  him,  but  suddenly  his 
countenance  became  overcast,  he  was  seized  with  a  fearful 
idea — suppose  the  general  had  deceived  him,  and  the  bread 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    265 

was  not  for  the  king?  He  must  know,  he, must  convince  him- 
self that  the  statement  was  true.  He  followed  the  general 
rapidly,  and  soon  overtook  him,  Rothenberg  perceived  him, 
and  understood  instantly  why  he  had  followed  him.  Smil- 
ingly he  entered  the  presence  of  the  king. 

"  My  king,  I  am  here,  and  bring  what  you  demanded,  a 
piece  of  bread." 

"  Ah,  that  means  renewed  strength,"  said  the  king,  as  he 
received  the  bread  and  commenced  eating  it  with  evident 
satisfaction.  "  How  did  you  procure  this  bread  for  me,  my 
friend?" 

"  Sire,  I  obtained  it  of  a  soldier,  who  refused  to  sell  it, 
but  who  gladly  gave  it  to  me  when  he  heard  it  was  for  the 
king.  Afterward  he  conceived  a  doubt  that  I  had  deceived 
him,  and  that  I  had  obtained  his  treasure  for  my  own  grati- 
fication. He  followed  me,  and  I  wager  he  is  standing  with' 
out  longing  to  know  if  the  king  is  really  eating  his  bread." 

"  I  will  gratify  his  desire,"  said  Frederick,  smiling,  as  he 
raised  the  curtain  of  the  tent,  and  stood  in  the  opening. 

There  stood  the  soldier,  staring  at  the  tent,  but  he  trem- 
bled when  he  perceived  the  king.  Frederick  nodded  to  him 
most  kindly,  and  proceeded  to  cut  the  bread  which  he  held  in 
his  hand. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  bread,"  he  said ;  "  my  friend,  you 
must  ask  some  favor  of  me.     Think  what  you  would  wish." 

"Oh!  I  need  not  think,"  the  soldier  cried  joyfully,  "If 
I  may  wish  for  something,  it  shall  be  the  position  of  magis- 
trate in  my  native  land  in  Prussia." 

"  When  peace  is  declared,  your  wish  shall  be  gratified," 
said  the  king  to  the  delighted  soldier,  and  then  bowing  gra- 
ciously, Frederick  reentered  the  tent. 

"  !N^ow  my  friend,  my  Pylades,  we  will  allow  ourselves  an 
hour  of  rest,  of  recreation;  I  think  we  have  earned  it. 
Come  and  read  aloud  to  me." 

"  What  shall  I  read  to  your  majesty?  "  asked  Rothenberg, 
evidently  embarrassed. 

"  You  may  read  from  Horace." 

"  Your  majesty  does  not  know — "  said  Rothenberg,  hesi- 
tatingly, 

"What  do  I  not  know?" 


266  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  That  the  pandours  have  carried  off  your  camp  library." 

"  What !  my  books  too  ? "  demanded  the  kiug,  and  a 
cloud  darkened  his  brow.  "What  can  the  pandours  and 
Croats  do  with  my  poor  books?  Could  they  not  content 
themselves  with  my  treasure  and  my  silver- ware?  Must 
they  take  what  is  so  worthless  to  them,  and  so  precious 
to  me  ? " 

Then,  with  bent  brows,  his  hands  crossed  behind  him,  he 
paced  back  and  forth  in  the  narrow  tent.  Suddenly  arrest- 
ing his  steps,  he  glanced  around  the  tent,  as  if  in  search  of 
something.  "  Biche  is  not  here,"  he  said  quietly ;  <*  Wvag 
Piche  to  me,  my  friend." 

But  Xjleneral  Rothenberg  did  not  jnove, 

"  Well !  "  exclaimed  the  king. 

"  Sire,  they  have  taken  Biche  with  them  also." 

"  Biche  also,  my  faithful  friend,  my  pet ! "  cried  the 
king,  with  much  emotion,  as  he  again  began  his  walk.  At 
length,  approaching  the  general,  he  placed  both  hands  upon 
his  shoulder  and  looked  tenderly  into  his  eyes.  "  I  have  my 
friend,"  he  said  gently,  "  why  should  I  be  troubled  about  my 
books  or  my  dog?  I  will  send  to  Berlin  and  have  the  books 
replaced,  and  I  will  ransom  Biche.  They  caunot  refuse  to 
restore  the  faithful  animal  to  me." 

There  was  an  expression  of  such  anxiety  on  the  king's 
features,  that  Rothenberg  was  much  moved. 

"  I  do  not  doubt,  sire,"  he  said,  "  that  your  favorite  will 
be  returned  to  you.  Your  majesty  may  well  trust  to  that 
Providence  which  has  vouchsafed  you  so  glorious  a  victory." 

The  king  replied,  smiling :  "  I  will  tell  you  a  secret,  my 
friend.  I  deserved  to  be  overcome  in  this  battle,  for  I  had 
weakened  my  army  too  much  by  detachments.  Nothing  but 
the  skill  of  my  generals  and  the  bravery  of  my  troops  saved 
me  from  a  defeat.  Something  is  also  due  to  the  avarice  of 
the  pandours  and  Croats;  a  branch  of  our  laurel-wreath  be- 
longs justly  to  Nadasti  and  Trenck.  It  is  most  fortunate 
that  the  courier  who  brought  those  last  dispatches  from  Ber- 
lin, did  not  arrive  during  the  battle.  lie  would  certainly 
have  been  captured  by  the  pandours,  and  my  dispatches  lost. 
My  friend,  do  you  not  see  how  Providence  marks  out  for  me 
the  path  of  duty?     A  king  dare  not  waste  a  moment  in 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    267 

dreams  or  idle  pleasures.  I  wished  to  live  an  hour  for  myself, 
when  I  should  have  been  reading  these  dispatches.  We  will 
go  to  work;  here  is  the  key  of  the  dispatch  bag;  open  it  and 
take  out  the  letters." 

The  king  then  seated  himself  before  the  conmion  deal 
table  which  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  tent,  and  assorted  the 
papers  which  Rothenberg  handed  to  him. 

"  We  will  first  read  the  letters  from  our  friends,"  said  the 
king,  placing  the  dispatches  and  papers  on  one  side.  "  Here 
are  letters  from  D'Argens,  and  from  Knobelsdorf,  but  none 
from  Duhan,  or  Jordan,  or  Kaiserling.  What  does  that 
mean  ?  I  fear  that  all  is  not  right.  Ah !  here  is  a  letter  for 
you,  my  friend,  in  the  handwriting  of  Duhan.  He  writes 
to  you,  and  not  to  me.  Read,  Kothenberg,  and  tell  me  its 
contents." 

The  king  then  opened  one  of  his  own  letters,  but  it  was 
evident  that  it  did  not  occupy  his  attention.  He  raised  his 
eyes  every  few  seconds  to  look  at  the  general,  who  had  be- 
come very  pale  on  first  opening  his  letter,  and  whose  coimte- 
nance  now  bore  an  expression  of  pain.  Frederick  could 
no  longer  endure  this  silence.  He  arose  hastily,  and  ap- 
proached Rothenberg. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said,  "  Duhan  has  written  something  to 
you  that  he  would  not  write  to  me — something  most  painful. 
I  see  by  your  countenance." 

"  Your  majesty  is  right ;  my  letters  contain  most  distress- 
ing intelligence." 

"  Ah !  "  murmured  the  king,  as  he  turned  from  Rothen- 
berg, "  I  fear  I  have  not  the  strength  to  support  this  coming 
trial."  After  a  pause,  he  continued :  "  Now,  my  friend,  tell 
me,  are  my  mother  and  sisters  well  ? " 

"  Sire,  the  entire  royal  family  are  well." 

"  Your  intelligence,  then,  relates  to  my  friends.  Two  of 
them  are  ill — ^yes,  two.  How  is  Jordan?  You  do  not  an- 
swer— ^you  weep.     How  is  Jordan  ?  " 

"  Sire,  Jordan  is  dead." 

"  Dead ! "  cried  the  king,  as  he  sank  powerless  upon  his 
chair,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  "  Dead !  my 
best,  my  dealt  st  friend  is  dead  ?  " 

"  His  death  was  as  bright  and  peaceful  as  his  life,"  said 


268  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

Eothenberg.  "  His  last  word  was  a  farewell  to  your  maj- 
esty, his  last  act  was  to  write  to  his  king.  Here  is  the  letter, 
sire." 

The  king  silently  received  the  letter  from  Eothenberg. 
Two  great  tears  ran  slowly  down  his  cheeks,  and,  falling  on 
the  letter,  obliterated  some  words  of  the  address.  "  Jordan's 
hand  wrote  these  words  for  the  last  time ;  this  idle  title  '  his 
majesty ' — and  my  tears  have  washed  it  away.  Jordan ! 
Jordan  I  am  no  longer  a  king,  but  a  poor,  weak  man  who 
mourns  for  his  lost  friend." 

He  pressed  the  paper  passionately  to  his  lips;  then 
placed  it  in  his  bosom,  and  turned  once  more  to  Rothenberg. 

"  Tell  me  the  rest,  my  friend ;  I  am  resigned  to  all  things 
now." 

"  Did  you  not  say,  sire,  that  you  had  left  two  friends  ill 
in  Berlin  ? " 

"  Jordan  and  Kaiserling.  You  do  not  mean  that  Kaiser- 
ling  also — oh,  no,  no !  that  is  impossible !  Jordan  is  dead,  and 
I  knew  that  he  must  die ;  but  Kaiserling  will  recover — I  feel, 
I  know  it." 

"  Your  majesty,"  said  Rothenberg,  "  if-  I  were  a  pious 
priest,  I  would  say  Kaiserling  has  recovered,  for  his  soul  has 
returned  to  God." 

"  Kaiserling  dead  also !  Rothenberg,  how  could  you  find 
the  courage  to  tell  me  this?  Two  friends  lost  in  a  moment 
of  time."  The  king  said  nothing  more.  His  head  sank 
upon  his  breast,  and  he  wept  bitterly.  After  a  time  he 
raised  his  head,  and  said,  as  if  to  himself :  "  My  two  friends ! 
They  were  my  family — now  I  am  orphaned.  Sorrow  will 
make  a  desert  of  my  heart,  and  men  will  call  me  cold  and 
heartless.  They  will  not  know  that  my  heart  is  a  graveyard, 
wherein  my  friends  lie  buried." 

The  tears  ran  slowly  down  his  cheeks  as  he  uttered  this 
death-wail.  So  deep  was  the  grief  depicted  on  the  counte- 
nance of  the  king,  that  Rothenberg  could  no  longer  restrain 
himself.  He  rushed  to  the  king,  and,  sinking  on  his  knees 
beside  him,  seized  his  hands  and  covered  them  with  tears 
and  kisses. 

"  Oh,  my  king,  my  hero !  cease  'to  mourn,  K  you  do  not 
wish  to  see  me  die  of  grief." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     269 

The  king  smiled  mournf ullj^  as  he  replied :  "  If  one 
could  die  of  grief,  I  would  not  have  survived  this  hour." 

"  What  would  the  world  think  could  they  see  this  great 
conqueror  forgetting  his  triumphs  and  indulging  such 
grief?" 

"  Ah,  my  friend,  you  desire  to  console  me  with  the  re- 
membrance of  this  victory!  I  rejoice  that  I  have  preserved 
my  land  from  a  cruel  misfortune,  and  that  my  troops  are 
crowned  with  glory.  But  my  personal  vanity  finds  no  food 
in  this  victory.  The  welfare  and  the  happiness  of  my  people 
alone  lie  on  my  heart — I  think  not  of  my  own  fleeting  fame." 

"  The  fame  of  my  king  is  not  fleeting.  It  will  live  in 
future  years,"  cried  the  general. 

The  king  shrugged  his  shoulders  almost  contemptuously. 
"  Only  death  stamps  fame  upon  kings'  lives.  For  the  pres- 
ent, I  am  content  to  fulfil  my  duties  to  the  best  of  my  abil- 
ity. To  be  a  true  king,  a  monarch  mus  be  willing  to  re- 
sign all  personal  happiness.  As  for  me,  Rothenberg,  on 
this  day,  when  I,  as  a  king,  am  peculiarly  fortunate,  my 
heart  is  wrung  by  the  loss  of  two  dear  friends.  The  man 
must  pay  for  the  happiness  of  the  king.  But,"  said  the  king, 
after  a  pause,  "  this  is  the  dealing  of  the  Almighty ;  I  must 
submit  silently.  Would  that  my  heart  were  silent!  I  will 
tell  you  something,  my  friend.  I  fear  that  I  was  unjust 
to  Machiavelli.  He  was  right — only  a  man  with  a  heart  of 
iron  can  be  a  king,  for  he  alone  could  think  entirely  of  his 
people." 

"  How  suffering  and  full  of  grief  must  my  king  be  to 
speak  thus!  You  have  lost  two  dear  friends,  sire.  I  also 
mourn  their  loss,  but  am  suffering  from  a  still  deeper  grief. 
I  have  lost  the  love  of  my  king.  I  have  lost  faith  in  the 
friendship  of  my  Frederick,"  said  Rothenberg,  sighing 
deeply. 

"My  Rothenberg,"  said  the  king,  with  his  deep,  tender 
voice,  "  look  at  me,  and  tell  me  what  men  call  you,  when  they 
speak  of  you  and  me  ?  " 

"I  hope  they  call  me  your  majesty's  most  faithful  ser- 
vant." 

"  ISTo,  they  call  you  my  favorite,  and  what  they  say  is  true. 
Vox  populi  vox  Dei.    Come  to  my  heart,  my  favorite." 


210  BEKLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

"  Ah  I  my  king,  my  prince,  my  friend,"  cried  Rothenberg, 
enthusiastically,  as  he  threw  himself  into  the  arms  of  the 
king. 

They  stood  long  thus,  heart  pressed  to  heart;  and  who 
that  had  seen  them,  the  king  and  "^h?  hero,  the  conquerors  of 
the  day,  would  have  imagined  that  their  tears  were  not  the 
tears  of  happiness  and  triumph,  but  of  suffering  and  love  ? 

"  And  now,"  said  Frederick,  after  a  pause,  "  let  me  again 
be  king.     I  must  return  to  my  duties." 

He  seated  himself  the  table,  and  Rothenberg,  after 
taking  from  the  dispatch-bag  a  number  of  documents  bear- 
ing the  state  seal,  handed  the  king  a  daintily  perfumed,  rose- 
colored  note.  The  king  would  not  receive  it,  although  a 
light  flush  mounted  to  his  brow  and  his  eyes  beamed  more 
brightly. 

"  Lay  that  on  one  side,"  he  said,  "  I  cannot  read  it ;  the 
notes  of  the  Miserere  are  still  soimding  in  my  heart,  and 
this  operatic  air  would  but  create  a  discord.  We  will  pro- 
ceed to  read  the  dispatches." 


CHAPTER   Vni. 

A  LETTER  PREGNANT  WITH  FATE. 

The  king  was  not  the  only  person,  in  the  encampment  at 
Sohr,  to  whom  the  courier  brought  letters  from  Berlin;  the 
cotenel  of  every  regiment  had  received  a  securely-locked 
post-bag  containing  the  letters  for  the  officers  and  soldiers 
of  his  regiment,  which  it  was  his  duty  to  deliver.  To  avoid 
errors  in  the  distribution,  every  post-bag  was  accompanied 
by  a  list,  sent  from  the  war  department,  on  which  each  per- 
son to  whom  a  letter  was  addressed  must  write  a  receipt. 

Colonel  von  Jaschinsky  was  therefore  compelled  to  deliver 
to  Lieutenant  von  Trenck  both  the  letters  which  were  ad- 
dressed to  him.  The  colonel  looked  at  one  of  these  letters 
with  a  most  malicious  expression;  he  was  not  at  all  curious 
concerning  its  contents,  for  he  was  well  acquainted  with 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    271 

them,  and  knew  that  as  soon  as  Trenck  received  it,  it  would 
become  a  sword,  whose  deadly  point  would  be  directed  to  the 
breast  of  the  young  man. 

He  knew  the  letter,  for  he  had  seen  it  before,  but  he  had 
not  delivered  it;  he  had  fraudulently  withheld  it  from 
Trenck,  in  order  to  send  it  to  Berlin,  to  his  friend  Pollnitz, 
and  to  ask  him  if  he  did  not  think  it  well  suited  to  accom- 
plish their  purpose  of  making  Lieutenant  von  Trenck  harm- 
less, by  bringing  about  his  utter  destruction.  Pollnitz  had 
not  answered  up  to  this  time,  but  to-day  Colonel  von  Jas- 
chinsky  had  received  a  letter  from  him,  in  which  he  said :  "  It 
is  now  time  to  allow  the  letter  of  the  pandour  to  work.  I 
carried  the  letter  to  the  post,  and  I  imagine  that  I  played 
the  part  of  a  Job's  messenger  to  his  impertinent  young  offi- 
cer, Avho  allows  himself  to  believe  that  his  colonel  owes  him 
two  hundred  ducats.  If  you  have  ever  really  been  his  debtor, 
he  will  certainly  be  yours  from  to-day,  for  to  you  he  will  owe 
free  quarters  in  one  of  the  Prussian  forts,  and  I  hope  for  no 
short  time.  When  you  inform  the  king  of  this  letter  from 
the  pandour,  you  can  also  say  that  Lieutenant  von  Trenck  re- 
ceived a  second  letter  from  Berlin,  and  that  you.  believe  it 
to  be  from  a  lady.  Perhaps  the  king  will  demand  this  letter, 
which  I  am  positive  Trenck  will  receive,  for  I  mailed  it 
myself,  and  it  is  equally  certain  that  he  will  not  destroy  it, 
for  lovers  do  not  deftroy  the  letters  of  the  beloved." 

No,  lovers  never  destroy  the  letters  of  the  beloyed. 
What  would  have  induced  Frederick  von  Trenck  to  destroy 
this  paper,  on  which  her  hand  had  rested,  her  eyes  had 
looked  upon,  her  breath  touched,  and  on  which  her  love,  her 
vows,  her  longing,  and  her  faith,  were  depicted?  No,  he 
would  not  have  exchanged  it  for  all  the  treasures  of  the 
world — this  holy,  this  precious  paper,  which  said  to  him  that 
the  Princess  Amelia  had  not  forgotten  him,  that  she  was  de- 
termined to  wait  with  patience,  and  love,  and  faith,  until  her 
hero  returned,  covered  with  glory,  with  a  laurel-wreath  on  his 
brow,  which  would  be  brighter  and  more  beautiful  than  the 
crown  of  a  king. 

As  Trenck  read  these  lines  he  wept  with  shame  and  hu- 
miliation. Two  battles  had  been  already  won,  and  his  name 
had  remained  dark  and  unknown;  two  battles,  and  jione  of 


272  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR. 

those  heroic  deeds  which  his  beloved  expected  from  him  with 
such  certainty,  had  come  in  his  path.  He  had  performed 
his  duty  as  a  brave  soldier,  but  he  had  not  accomplished  such 
an  heroic  act  as  that  of  Krauel,  in  the  past  year,  which  had 
raised  the  common  soldier  to  the  title  of  Baron  Krauel  von 
Ziskaberg,  and  had  given  to  the  unknown  peasant  a  name 
whose  fame  would  extend  over  centuries.  He  had  not  aston- 
ished the  whole  world  with  a  daring,  unheard-of  undertaking, 
such  as  that  of  Ziethen,  who  had  passed  with  his  hussars,  un- 
known, through  the  Austrian  camp.  He  had  been  nothing 
but  a  brave  soldier — he  had  done  nothing  more  than  many 
thousands.  He  felt  the  strength  and  the  courage  to  tear  the 
very  stars  from  heaven,  that  he  might  bind  them  as  a  diadem 
upon  the  brow  of  his  beloved ;  to  battle  with  the  Titans,  and 
plunge  them  into  the  abyss;  to  bear  upon  his  shoulders  the 
whole  world,  as  Atlas  did;  he  felt  in  himself  the  power,  the 
daring,  the  will,  and  the  ability  of  a  hero.  But  the  opportu- 
nity failed  him. 

The  deeds  which  he  longed  to  accomplish  did  not  lie  in 
his  path.  And  thus,  in  spite  of  two  victorious  battles  in 
which  he  had  fought ;  in  spite  of  the  evident  good- will  of  the 
king,  he  had  remained  what  he  was,  the  unknown,  undis- 
tinguished Lieutenant  von  Trenck.  With  a  trembling  heart 
he  demanded  of  himself  that  the  Princess  Amelia  would  con- 
tinue to  love  him  if  he  returned  to  he^as  he  had  departed; 
if  her  proud,  pure  heart  could  stand  that  severest  of  all  tests, 
the  discovery  that  she  had  bestowed  her  love  upon  an  ordi- 
nary, undistinguished  man. 

"  No,  no !  "  he  cried,  "  I  have  not  the  courage  to  return 
thus  to  her.  If  I  cannot  distinguish  myself,  I  can  die.  In 
the  next  battle  I  will  conquer  fame  or  death.  And  if  I  fall, 
she  will  weep  for  me.  That  would  be  a  far  happier  fate 
than  living  to  be  forgotten  or  despised  by  her." 

He  pressed  Amelia's  letter  to  his  lips,  then  placed  it  in  his 
bosom,  and  opened  the  second  letter.  Whilst  he  read,  an  ex- 
pression of  astonishment  appeared  on  his  features,  and  a 
smile,  half  gay,  half  scornful,  played  upon  his  full,  fresh  lips. 
Soon,  however,  his  features  grew  earnest,  and  a  dark  shadow 
clouded  his  youthful  brow. 

"  If  I  had  enemies  they  could  destroy  me  with  this  let- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     273 

ter,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  It  could,  wild  and  silly  as  it 
is,  be  made  to  represent  me  as  a  traitor.  Perhaps  it  is  a  pit- 
fall which  has  been  prepared  for  me.  Is  it  possible  that  the 
authorities  should  have  allowed  this  letter,  coming  evidently 
from  inimical  Austria,  to  pass  unread  through  their  hands? 
I  will  go  immediately  to  my  colonel,  and  show  him  this  let- 
ter," said  Trenck.  "  He  can  then  inform  the  king  of  it  if 
he  think  it  necessary.  Concealment  might  be  more  danger- 
ous for  me  than  an  open  acknowledgment." 

And  placing  this  second  letter  also  in  his  bosom,  Trenck 
proceeded  to  the  tent  of  Colonel  von  Jaschinsky,  who  wel- 
comed him  with  unusual  warmth. 

"  Colonel,"  said  Trenck,  "  do  you  remember  the  singular 
letter  which  I  received  six  months  since  from  my  cousin. 
Baron  von  Trenck,  colonel  of  the  pandours  ? " 

"  Ah,  you  mean  that  letter  in  which  he  invites  you  to 
come  to  Austria,  and  promised,  should  you  do  so,  to  make 
you  his  sole  heir  ?  " 

"  Yes,'  that  is  the  letter  I  mean.  I  informed  you  of  it  at 
the  time  and  asked  your  advice." 

"What  advice  did  I  give  you?" 

"  That  I  should  reply  kindly  and  gratefully  to  my  cousin ; 
that  I  should  not  appear  indiiferent  or  ungrateful  for  a  pro- 
posal by  which  I  might  become  a  millionnaire.  Yoii  ad- 
vised me  to  decline  going  to  Austria,  but  only  to  decline  so 
long  as  there  was  war  between  Prussia  and  Austria." 

"  Well,  I  think  the  advice  was  good,  and  that  you  may 
still  follow  it." 

"  You  advised  me  also  to  write  to  my  cousin  to  send  me 
some  of  those  beautiful  Hungarian  horses,  and  promised  to 
forward  my  letter  through  Baron  von  Bossart,  the  Saxon 
ambassador;  but  on  the  condition  that  when  I  received  the 
Hungarian  horses,  I  should  present  one  of  them  to  you." 

"  That  was  only  a  jest — a  jest  which  binds  you  to  nothing, 
and  of  which  you  have  no  proofs." 

"  I !  "  asked  Trenck,  astonished ;  "  what  proof  do  I  need 
that  I  promised  you  a  Hungarian  horse  ?  What  do  I  want 
with  proofs  ? " 

Count  Jaschinsky  looked  embarrassed  before  the  open, 
trusting  expression  of  the  young  officer.     His  singular  re- 


274  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCl ;  OR, 

mark  would  have  betrayed  him  to  a  more  suspicious,  a  more 
worldly-wise  man,  who  would  have  perceived  from  it  the 
possibility  of  some  danger,  from  which  Jaschinsky  was  seek- 
ing to  extricate  himself. 

"  I  did  not  mean,"  said  the  count,  laughing,  "  that  you 
needed  a  proof;  I  only  wished  to  say  that  I  had  no  proof 
that  you  had  promised  me  a  Hungarian  horse,  and  that  you 
need  not  feel  obliged  to  give  me  one." 

"  Yes,  colonel,  your  request  and  my  promise  occurred  be- 
fore witnesses.  Lieutenant  von  Stadnitz  and  Ensign  von 
Wagnitz  were  present ;  and  if  that  had  not  been  the  case,  I 
should  consider  my  word  binding.  But  at  present  I  have  no 
Hungarian  horses,  only  an  answer  from  my  singular  cousin, 
the  contents  of  which  I  wish  to  impart  to  you." 

"  Ah,  the  colonel  of  the  pandours  has  answered  you  ? " 
asked  Jaschinsky,  with  well-dissembled  astonishment. 

"Yes,  he  has  answered  me,  and  has  written  me  the 
most  singular  letter  that  one  can  imagine.  Only  listen 
to  it." 

And  Frederick  von  Trenck  hastily  pulled  out  the  letter 
which  he  had  put  in  his  bosom.  Entirely  occupied  with  this 
subject,  and  thinking  of  nothing  else,  he  opened  the  letter 
and  read : 

"From  yours,  dated  Berlin,  February  12th,  I  ascertain 
that  you  desire  some  Hungarian  horses  on  which  to  meet 
my  hussars  and  pandours.  I  learned  with  much  pleasure,  in 
the  last  campaign,  that  the  Prussian  Trenck  was  a  brave 
soldier;  as  a  proof  of  my  consideration,  I  returned  to  you 
at  that  time  *he  horses  which  my  men  had  captured  from 
you.  If  you  desire  to  ride  Hungarian  horses,  you  must  take 
mine  from  me  on  the  field,  or  come  to  your  cousin,  who  will 
receive  you  with  open  arms  as  his  son  and  friend,  and  accord 
you  every  wish  of  your  heart." 

Had  Trenck  looked  less  attentively  at  his  letter,  while 
reading,  he  would  have  perceived  that  Jaschinsky  was  pay- 
ing but  slight  attention  (he  was  looking  attentively  on  the 
floor) ;  he  quietly  approached  Trenck,  and  placed  his  foot 
upon  something  which  he  evidently  wished  to  conceal.  He 
then  stood  still,  and  as  Trenck  finished  reading  he  broke  into 
a  loud  laugh,  in  which  the  young  officer  joined  him. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    275 

"  Your  cousin  is  a  droll  man,"  said  the  count,  "  and  under 
the  conditions  which  he  offers  you.  I  will  still  accept  your 
Hungarian  horse.  Perhaps  you  will  soon  find  an  opportu- 
nity to  give  it  to  me,  for  I  believe  we  are  abo*at  to  attack 
Hungary,  and  you  can  yourself  procure  the  horses.  But  now, 
my  young  friend,  excuse  me ;  I  must  go  to  the  king  to  give  my 
report.  You  know  he  will  endure  no  neglect  of  duty.  After 
the  war  council  I  will  see  you  again." 

Trenck  took  leave,  a  little  surprised  at  the  sudden  dis* 
missal.  The  colonel  did  not  accompany  him,  as  usual.  He 
remained  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  tent  until  he  was 
alone ;  then  stooping  down,  he  drew  from  under  his  foot  the 
daintily  folded  letter  that  he  had  concealed  while  Trenck  wa3 
present. 

Count  Jaschinsky  had  seen  what  had  escaped  Trenck. 
He  saw  that  Trenck,  in  taking  out  the  letter  from  his  cousin, 
had  let  fall  another  paper,  and  while  Trenck  was  reading, 
he  had  managed  to  conceal  it  with  his  foot.  Now  he  has- 
tily seized  this  paper,  and  opened  it.  A  most  wicked  ex- 
pression of  joy  overspread  his  countenance  whilst  he  read, 
and  then  he  said,  triumphantly :  "  Now  he  is  lost.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  tell  the  king  that  Trenck  has  received  a  letter 
from  a  lady;  I  will  take  him  the  letter  itself,  and  that  will 
condemn  Trenck  more  surely  than  any  conspiracy  with  his 
cousin.     Away  to  the  king !  " 

But,  as  he  had  already  withdrawn  the  curtain  of  his  tent, 
he  remained  motionless,  and  appeared  deep  in  thought. 
Then  he  allowed  the  curtain  to  fall,  and  returned  within. 

"  I  think  I  was  on  the  point  of  committing  a  great  folly. 
This  letter  would  of  course  accomplish  the  destruction  of 
my  hated  creditor,  but  I  doubt  exceedingly  if  I  would  escape 
\mharmed  if  I  handed  this  ominous  writing  to  the  king.  He 
would  never  forgive  me  for  having  discovered  this  affair, 
which  he,  of  course,  wishes  to  conceal  from  the  whole  world. 
The  knowledge  of  such  a  secret  would  be  most  dangerous, 
and  I  prefer  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  How  can  I 
manage  to  let  this  letter  reach  the  king,  without  allowing 
him  to  know  that  I  am  acquainted  with  the  contents?  Ah, 
I  have  it !  "  he  cried,  after  a  long  pause,  "  the  means  are 
sure,  and  not  at  all  dangerous  for  me." 
18 


276  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

With  rapid  steps  he  left  his  tent,  and  proceeded  to  that 
of  the  king  from  whom  he  prayed  an  audience. 

"  Ah !  I  wager  that  you  come  to  complain  of  some  one," 
said  the  king,  as  Jaschinsky  entered.  "  There  is  a  wicked 
light  in  your  eye.  Am  I  not  right?  one  of  your  officers  has 
committed  some  folly." 

"  I  leave  the  decision  entirely  to  your  majesty,"  said 
Jaschinsky,  humhly.  "  Your  majesty  commanded  me  to 
watch  carefully  over  my  officers,  especially  the  Lieutenant 
von  Trenck." 

"  Your  complaint  is  again  of  Trenck,  then  ? "  asked  the 
king,  frowningly.  "  I  will  tell  you  before  we  begin,  unless 
it  is  something  important  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  it;  gossip 
is  disagreeable  to  me.  I  am  well  pleased  with  Trenck;  he 
is  a  brave  and  zealous  officer,  and  I  think  he  does  not  neg- 
lect his  duties.  Consider,  therefore,  colonel,  unless  it  is  a 
grave  fault  of  which  you  have  to  complain,  I  advise  you  to 
remain  silent." 

"  I  hope  your  majesty  will  allow  me  to  proceed." 

"  Speak,"  said  the  king,  as  he  turned  his  back  on  the 
colonel,  and  appeared  to  occupy  himself  with  the  books  on 
his  table. 

"  Lieutenant  von  Trenck  received  a  letter  by  the  post  to- 
day which  points,  in  my  opinion,  to  an  utterly  unlawful  pro- 
ceeding." 

The  king  turned  hastily,  and  looked  so  angrily  at  the 
colonel  that  he  involuntarily  withdrew  a  step.  "  It  is  for- 
tunate that  I  did  not  hand  him  that  letter,"  thought  Jas- 
chinsky ;  "  in  his  anger  the  king  would  have  destroyed  me." 

"  From  whom  is  this  letter  ?  "  demanded  the  king. 

"  Sire,  it  is  from  Baron  von  Trenck,  the  colonel  of  the 
pandours." 

The  king  appeared  relieved,  as  he  replied,  with  a  smile: 
"  This  pandour  is  a  cousin  of  our  lieutenant." 

"  But  he  is  in  the  enemy's  camp ;  and  I  do  not  think  it 
proper  for  a  Prussian  officer  to  request  one  in  the  Austrian 
service  to  send  him  a  present  of  horses,  or  for  the  Austrian  to 
invite  the  Prussian  to  join  him." 

"Is  this  in  the  letter?"  asked  the  king  in  a  threatening 
tone;  and  when  Jaschinsky  answered  in  the  affirmative,  he 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    277 

said :  "  Give  me  the  letter ;  I  must  convince  myself  with  my 
own  eyes  that  this  is  so." 

"  I  have  not  the  letter,  but  if  your  majesty  desire,  I  will 
demand  it  from  Lieutenant  von  Trenck." 

"And  if  he  has  burnt  the  letter?" 

"  Then  I  am  willing  to  take  an  oath  that  what  I  have  re- 
lated was  in  the  letter.  I  read  it  myseK,  for  the  lieutenant 
showed  it  to  me." 

"  Bring  me  the  letter." 

Jaschinsky  went,  and  the  king  remained  alone  and 
thoughtful  in  his  tent.  "If  he  were  a  traitor,  he  would 
surely  not  have  shown  the  letter  to  Jaschinsky,"  said  the 
king,  softly ;  "  no,  his  brow  is  as  clear,  his  glance  as  open  as 
formerly.  Trenck  is  no  traitor — no  traitor  to  his  country — 
I  fear  only  a  traitor  to  his  own  happiness.  Well,  perhaps  he 
has  come  to  his  reason,  I  have  warned  him  repeatedly,  and 
perhaps  he  has  at  length  understood  me. — Where  is  the  let- 
ter "*■  "  he  asked,  as  Coionel  Jaschinsky  reentered. 

"  Sire,  here  it  is.  At  least  I  think  that  is  it.  I  did  not 
take  time  to  glance  at  the  paper,  in  my  haste  to  return  to 
your  majesty." 

"  Was  he  willing  to  give  the  letter  ? " 

"  He  said  nothing,  but  drew  it  instantly  from  his  bosom, 
and  I  brought  it  to  your  majesty  without  glancing  at  it." 

The  king  looked  searchingly  into  the  countenance  of  the 
colonel,  Jaschinsky's  repeated  assurances  that  he  had  not 
looked  at  the  letter  surprised  the  king,  and  led  him  to  sus- 
pect some  hidden  motive.  He  received  the  letter,  and 
opened  it  slowly  and  carefully.  He  again  turned  his  pierc- 
ing glance  upon  the  countenance  of  Jaschinsky;  he  now 
perceived  the  rose-colored  letter,  which  lay  in  the  folds  of 
that  one  from  Colonel  Trenck,  and  he  immediately  under- 
stood the  words  of  the  count.  This  little  letter  was  really 
the  kernel  of  the  whole  matter,  and  Jaschinsky  preferred  to 
know  nothing  of  it. 

"  Wait  outside  until  I  call  you.  I  wish  to  read  this  letter 
carefully,"  said  the  king,  with  perfect  composure;  but  when 
Jaschinsky  had  disappeared,  he  hastily  unfolded  the  paper, 
and,  throwing  Trenck's  letter  on  the  table,  he  took  the  other, 
and  looking  carefully  at  it,  be  said  softly,  "  It  is  her  writing 


278  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

— ^yes,  it  is  her  writing,  and  all  my  trouble  has  been  in  vain. 
They  would  not  understand  me.     They  are  lost." 

And  sighing  deeply,  the  king  turned  again  to  the  letter. 
"  Poor,  miserable  children,  why  should  I  not  make  them 
happy?  is  it  impossible  to  forget  prejudice  for  once,  and  to 
allow  these  two  beings  to  be  happy  in  their  own  way?  So 
strange  a  thing  is  the  heart  of  a  woman,  that  she  prefers  an 
orange-wreath  to  a  crown!  Why  should  I  force  this  young 
girl  to  be  a  princess,  when  she  only  desires  to  be  a  woman? 
Shall  I  allow  them  to  flyaway  into  some  wilderness,  and  there 
create  a  paradise  ?  But  how  soon  would  the  serpent  creep  in- 
to this  paradise !  how  soon  would  satiety,  and  ennui,  and  re- 
pentance destroy  their  elysium!  No,  the  daughters  of  the 
HohenzoUems  must  not  stoop  for  happiness ;  I  cannot  change 
it.  Fate  condemns  them,  not  I.  They  are  condemned,  but 
the  sword  which  is  suspended  above  them  must  fall  only  upon 
his  head.  His  is  the  guilt,  for  he  is  the  man.  His  stake  was 
immense,  and  he  has  lost  all." 

The  king  then  took  the  letter  of  Colonel  Trenck,  and 
read  it  attentively.  "  This  letter  bears  all-sufficient  testi- 
mony against  him ;  it  is  the  iron  mask  which  I  will  raise  be- 
fore his  crime,  that  the  world  may  not  discover  it.  I  would 
laugh  at  this  letter  were  it  not  for  the  other,  which  con- 
demns him.  This  will  answer  as  an  excuse  for  his  punish- 
ment." 

The  king  arose  from  his  seat,  and  placing  the  letter  of  the 
princess  in  his  bosom,  and  folding  the  other,  he  walked  has- 
tily to  the  opening  of  the  tent  and  called  Jaschinsky. 

"  Colonel,"  he  said,  and  his  countenance  was  troubled  but 
determined,  "  you  are  right.  Lieutenant  von  Trenck  is 
a  great  criminal,  for  this  letter  contains  undeniable  proof  of 
his  traitorous  connection  with  the  enemy.  If  I  ordered  him 
before  a  court-martial,  he  would  be  condemned  to  death.  As 
his  crime  may  have  grown  out  of  carelessness  and  thought- 
lessness, I  will  be  merciful,  and  try  if  a  few  years'  imprison- 
Inent  will  not  work  a  cure.  You  can  inform  him  of  his 
punishment,  when  you  return  his  cousin's  letter  to  him. 
You  did  not  open  this  letter  when  you  brought  it  to  me  ? " 

The  eye  of  the  king  rested  with  a  threatening  expression 
upon  the  colonel  as  he  asked  this  question. 


PREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     27» 

"  No,  your  majesty, — I  did  not  open  it,"  replied  the 
colonel. 

"  You  did  well,"  said  the  king,  "for  a  wasp  had  crept 
within  it,  which  might  have  given  you  a  deadly  wound.  Go 
now,  and  take  this  letter  to  Trenck,  and  take  his  sword  from 
him.  He  is  under  arrest,  and  must  be  sent  at  once  to  the 
fortress  at  Glatz." 

"  Must  it  be  quietly  done  ? "  asked  Jaschinsky,  scarcely 
able  to  conceal  his  delight. 

"  No,  on  the  contrary,  I  wish  the  whole  army,  the  whole 
world  to  know  why  I  have  punished  Trenck.  You  can  say 
to  every  one  that  Trenck  is  a  traitor,  who  has  carried  on  an 
unlawful  correspondence  with  his  cousin  in  Austria,  and  has 
conspired  with  the  enemy.  His  arrest  must  be  public,  and 
he  must  be  sent  to  Glatz,  guarded  by  fifty  hussars.  Go  now 
and  attend  to  this  business. — He  is  lost,"  said  the  king,  sol- 
emnly, when  he  was  once  more  alone.  "  Trenck  is  con- 
demned, and  Amelia  must  struggle  with  her  grief.  Poor 
Amelia ! " 

The  generals  were  waiting  outside,  among  them  the  fa- 
vorite of  the  king.  General  Rothenberg.  They  had  been 
summoned  to  a  council  by  the  king,  and  were  awaiting  his 
orders  to  enter  the  tent. 

But  the  king  did  not  caU  them,  perhaps  he  had  forgotten 
them.  He  walked  slowly  up  and  down  in  his  tent,  apparently 
lost  in  thought.  Suddenly  he  stood  motionless  and  listened. 
He  heard  the  tramp  of  many  horses,  and  he  knew  what  it 
meant.  He  approached  the  opening  of  the  tent,  and  drew 
back  the  curtain  sufficiently  to  see  without  being  seen. 

The  noise  of  the  horses'  hoofs  came  nearer  and  nearer. 
The  first  hussars  have  passed  the  king's  tent,  and  two 
more,  and  again  two,  and  again,  and  again;  and  there  in 
their  midst,  a  pale  young  man,  with  a  distracted  counte- 
nance, with  staring  eyes,  and  colorless  lips,  which  appear 
never  to  have  known  how  to  laugh,  a  young  officer,  without 
sword  or  epaulettes.  Is  this  Trenck,  the  beautiful,  the 
young,  the  light-hearted  Trenck,  the  beloved  of  a  princess, 
the  darling  of  all  the  ladies,  the  envied  favorite  of  the  king? 
He  has  passed  the  tent  of  the  king;  behind  him  are  his 
servants  with  his  horses  and  his  baggage;  and  then  again 


280  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

hussars,  who  close  the  procession,  the  burial-procession  of 
Trenck's  happiness  and  freedom. 

The  king  seemed  deeply  moved  as  he  stepped  back  from 
the  curtain.  "  Xow,"  he  said  solemnly,  "  I  have  committed 
my  first  act  of  injustice;  for  I  judged  this  man  in  my  own 
conscience,  without  bringing  him  before  a  court-martial. 
Should  the  world  condemn  me  for  this,  I  can  at  least  say  that 
it  is  my  only  fault  of  the  kind." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  RETURN  TO  BERLIN. 

Peace  was  proclaimed.  This  poor  land,  bleeding  from  a 
thousand  wounds,  might  now  rest,  in  order  to  gather  strength 
for  new  victories.  The  husband  of  Maria  Theresa  had  been 
crowned  as  emperor,  and  the  conditions  of  peace  had  been 
signed  at  Dresden,  by  both  Austrians  and  Prussians.  The 
king  and  his  army  returned  victorious  to  their  native  land. 
Berlin  had  assumed  her  most  joyous  appearance,  to  welcome 
her  king;  even  Nature  had  done  her  utmost  to  enliven  the 
scene.  The  freshly  fallen  snow,  which  covered  the  streets 
and  roofs  of  the  houses,  glittered  in  the  December  sunshine 
as  if  strewn  with  diamonds.  But  none  felt  to-day  that  the  air 
was  cold  or  the  wind  piercing;  happiness  created  summer  in 
their  hearts,  and  they  felt  not  that  it  was  winter.  On  every 
side  the  windows  were  open,  and  beautiful  women  wore 
awaiting  the  appearance  of  their  adored  sovereign  with  as 
much  curiosity  and  impatience  as  the  common  people  in  the 
streets,  who  were  longing  to  greet  their  hero-king. 

At  length  the  happy  hour  came.  At  length  the  roar  of 
cannon,  the  ringing  of  bells,  the  shouts  of  the  crowd,  which 
filled  every  avenue  leading  to  the  palace,  announced  that  the 
king  had  returned  to  his  capital,  which,  in  the  last  few  days, 
he  had  saved  by  a  happy  manoeuvre  from  being  attacked  by 
the  Austrians  and  Saxons.  The  people  greeted  their  king 
with  shouts ;  the  ladies  in  the  windows  waved  their  handker- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     281 

chiefs,  aud  threw  fragrant  flowers  into  the  open  carriage  in 
which  Frederick  and  his  brothers  sat. 

As  they  passed  before  the  gymnasium,  the  scholars  com- 
menced a  solemn  song,  which  was  at  the  same  time  a  hymn, 
and  a  prayer  for  their  king,  their  hero,  and  their  father. 
^'Vivat,  vivat  Fredericus !  Rex  vivat,  Augustus,  Magnus, 
Felix  Pater  Patrice!^'  sang  the  scholars.  But  suddenly  ris- 
ing above  the  voices  of  the  singers,  and  the  shouts  of  the 
people,  a  voice  was  heard,  crying  aloud,  ''Vivat  Frederick 
the  Great ! " 

The  people  who  had  listened  silently  to  the  Latin  because 
they  did  not  understand  it,  joined  as  with  one  impulse  in  this 
cry,  the  shout  arose  as  from  one  throat,  "  Vivat  Frederick 
the  Great ! "  And  this  cry  spread  like  wildfire  through  all 
the  streets,  over  all  the  public  squares;  it  resounded  from 
every  window,  and  even  from  the  tops  of  the  houses.  To-day 
Berlin  had  rebaptized  her  king.  She  gave  him  now  a  new 
name,  the  name  which  he  will  bear  through  all  ages,  the 
name  of  Frederick  the  Great. 

The  king  flushed  deeply  as  he  heard  this  cry.  His  heart, 
which  had  been  sad  and  gloomy,  seemed  warmed  as  by  a 
ray  of  sunlight.  Ambition  throbbed  within  his  breast,  and 
awakened  him  from  his  melancholy  thoughts.  No,  Fred- 
erick had  now  no  time  to  think  of  the  dead;  no  time  to 
mourn  secretly  over  the  loved,  the  faithful  friends  whom  he 
would  no  longer  find  in  Berlin.  The  king  must  overcome 
the  feelings  of  the  friend.  His  people  are  here  to  greet  him, 
to  welcome  his  return,  to  bestow  upon  him  an  immortal 
name.  The  king  has  no  right  to  withdraw  himself  from 
their  love;  he  must  meet  it  with  his  whole  soul,  his  whole 
heart. 

Convincing  himself  that  this  was  necessary,  Frederick 
lifted  his  head,  a  bright  color  mounted  to  his  cheeks,  and  his 
eyes  flashed  as  he  bowed  graciously  to  his  people.  Now  he 
is  truly  Frederick  the  Great,  for  he  has  conquered  his  own 
heart,  and  he  has  poured  upon  the  open  wound  of  his  private 
sorrows  the  balm  of  his  people's  love. 

Now  the  carriage  of  the  king  has  reached  the  palace  gate. 
Frederick  raises  his  hat  once  more,  and  bows  smilingly  to  the 
people,  whosfe  cries  of  "  Vivat  Frederick  the  Great "  still  fill 


282  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OE, 

the  air.  When  for  a  moment  there  is  silence,  a  single,  clear, 
commanding  voice  is  heard,  "  Long  live  Frederick  the 
Great!" 

The  king  turns  hastily ;  he  has  recognized  the  voice  of  his 
mother.  She  is  standing  on  the  threshold  of  the  palace,  sur- 
rounded by  the  princesses  of  the  royal  family.  Her  eyes  are 
more  brilliant  than  the  diamonds  which  glitter  in  her  hair, 
and  more  precious  than  the  costly  pearls  upon  her  bosom 
are  the  drops  which  fall  from  her  eyes,  tears  of  pride  and 
happiness,  shed  in  this  moment  of  trixunph.  Again  she  re- 
peats the  cry  taught  her  by  the  people,  "  Long  live  Frederick 
the  Great!" 

The  king  knew  the  first  tone  of  that  dear  voice,  and, 
springing  from  the  carriage,  hurried  forward  and  threw  him- 
self into  his  mother's  extended  arms,  and  laid  his  head  upon 
her  breast,  as  he  had  done  when  a  child,  and  wept  hot  tears, 
which  no  one  saw,  which  his  mother  alone  felt  upon  her 
bosom. 

^ear  them  stood  Elizabeth  Christine,  the  consort  of  the 
king,  and  in  the  depths  of  her  heart  she  repeated  the  cry  of 
the  people,  and  she  gazed  prayerfully  toward  heaven,  as  she 
petitioned  for  the  long  and  happy  life  of  her  adored  hus- 
band. But  Frederick  did  not  see  her;  he  gave  his  arm  to 
his  mother,  and  they  entered  the  palace,  followed  by  his 
wife  and  his  sisters  and  brothers. 

"  Frederick  the  Great !  "  This  cry  still  resounds  through 
the  streets,  and  the  windows  of  the  palace  tremble  with  the 
ringing  of  this  proud  name.  The  sound  enters  the  saloons 
before  him;  it  opens  wide  the  doors  of  the  White  Saloon, 
and  when  the  king  enters,  the  pictures  and  statues  of  the 
Ilohenzollerns  appear  to  become  animate,  the  dead  eyes 
dash,  the  stiffened  lips  smile,  and  the  motionless  heads  seem 
to  bow,  for  Frederick's  new  name  has  called  his  ancestors 
from  their  graves — this  name,  which  only  one  other  Hohen- 
zollern  had  borne  before  him — this  name,  which  is  as  rare 
a  blossom  on  the  genealogical  trees  of  the  proudest  royal 
families  as  the  blossoms  of  the  aloe.  The  king  greets  his  an- 
cestors with  a  happy  smile,  for  he  feels  that  he  is  no  unworthy 
successor.  He  has  forgotten  his  grief  and  his  pain;  he  has 
overcome  them.     In  this  hour  he  is  only  the  king  and  hero. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    263 

But  as  the  shadows  of  night  approach,  and  Berlin  is  bril- 
liant with  illuminations,  Frederick  lays  aside  his  majesty, 
and  becomes  once  more  the  loving  man,  the  friend.  He  is 
sitting  by  the  death-bed  of  his  friend  and  preceptor,  Duhan. 
The  joyous  shouts  of  the  people  are  still  heard  without,  but 
the  king  heeds  them  not;  he  hears  only  the  heavy  breathing 
of  his  friend,  and  speaks  to  him  gentle  words  of  love  and 
consolation. 

At  length  he  leaves  his  friend,  and  now  a  new  light 
springs  into  his  eyes.  He  is  no  longer  a  king,  no  longer  a 
mourning  friend,  he  is  only  a  young  man.  He  is  going  to 
spend  an  hour  with  his  friend  General  Eothenberg,  and  for- 
get his  royalty  for  a  while. 

Rothenberg  seems  to  have  forgotten  it  also,  for  he  does 
not  come  to  welcome  his  kingly  guest.  He  does  not  receive 
him  on  the  threshold,  ^o  one  receives  him,  but  the  hall  and 
stairway  are  brilliantly  lighted;  and,  as  he  ascends,  a  door 
opens,  and  a  woman  appears,  beautiful  as  an  angel,  with  eyes 
beaming  like  stars,  with  lips  glowing  as  crimson  roses.  Is 
it  an  angel  or  a  woman?  Her  voice  is  as  the  music  of  the 
spheres  to  the  king,  when  she  whispers  her  welcome  to  him, 
and  he,  at  last,  thinks  he  beholds  an  angel  when  he  sees 
Barbarina. 


CHAPTER   X. 
job's  post. 

Berlin  shouted,  huzzaed,  sang,  danced,  declaimed,  illu- 
minated for  three  entire  days  in  honor  of  the  conquered 
peace,  and  the  return  of  her  great  king.  Every  one  but  the 
young  Princess  Amelia  seemed  contented,  happy,  joyous. 
She  took  no  part  in  the  glad  triumph  of  her  family,  and  the 
loud  hosannas  of  the  people  found  no  echo  in  her  breast. 
With  heavy  heart  and  misty  eyes  she  walked  slowly  backward 
and  forward  in  her  boudoir.  For  three  days  she  had  borne 
this  terrible  torture,  this  anguish  of  uncertainty.    Her  soul 


284  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

was  moved  with  fearful  anticipations,  but  she  was  forced  to 
appear  gay. 

For  three  days,  with  trembling  heart  and  lips,  she  had 
been  compelled  to  appear  at  the  theatre,  the  masquerades, 
the  balls,  and  ceremonious  dinners  of  the  court.  She  felt 
that  the  stern  eye  of  the  king  was  ever  searchingly  and 
angrily  fixed  upon  her.  Several  times,  completely  over- 
come and  exhausted  by  her  efforts  to  seem  gay  and  careless, 
she  sought  to  withdraw  unobserved  to  her  room,  but  her 
ever-watchful  brother  intercepted  her,  and  led  her  back  to 
her  place  by  her  royal  mother.  He  chatted  and  jested  mer- 
rily, but  his  expression  was  dark  and  threatening.  Once 
she  had  not  the  power  to  respond  with  smiles.  She  fixed  her 
pleading,  tearful  eyes  upon  the  king.  He  bowed  down  to 
her,  and  said  harshly :  "  I  command  you  to  appear  gay.  A 
princess  has  not  the  right  to  weep  when  her  people  are 
happy." 

To-day  the  court  festivities  closed.  At  last  Amelia 
dared  hope  for  some  hours  of  solitude  and  undisturbed 
thought.  To-day  she  could  weep  and  allow  her  pale  lips 
to  express  the  wild  grief  of  her  heart.  In  her  loneliness  she 
dared  give  utterance  to  the  cry  of  anguish  rending  her  bosom. 

Where  was  he?  where  was  Trenck?  Why  had  he  not 
returned?  Why  had  she  no  news,  no  love-token,  no  message 
from  him?  She  had  carefully  examined  the  list  of  killed 
and  wounded.  He  had  not  fallen  in  battle.  He  was  not 
fatally  wounded.  He  had  not  returned  with  the  army,  or 
she  would  have  seen  him.  Where  was  he,  then  ?  Was  he  ill, 
or  had  he  forgotten  her,  or  did  he  blush  to  return  without 
his  laurels?  Had  he  been  taken  by  the  Austrians?  Was 
her  beloved  suffering  in  a  loathsome  prison,  while  she  was 
laughing,  jesting,  and  adorning  herself  in  costly  array? 
While  she  thus  thought  and  spoke,  burning  tears  blinded  her 
eyes,  and  sighs  and  sobs  choked  her  utterance. 

"  If  he  is  dead,"  said  she,  firmly,  "  then  I  will  also  die. 
If  he  is  in  prison,  I  will  set  him  at  liberty.  If  he  does  not 
come  because  he  has  not  been  promoted  and  fears  I  no 
longer  love  him,  I  will  seek  him  out,  I  will  swear  that  I  love 
him,  that  I  desire  only  his  love,  that  I  will  fly  with  him  to 
some  lonely,  quiet  valley.    I  will  lay  aside  my  rank,  my 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    285 

royalty,  forget  my  birth,  abandon  all  joyously,  that  I  may 
belong  to  him,  be  his  fond  and  dear-loved  wife." 

And  now  a  light  sound  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  she 
recognized  the  voice  of  her  maid  asking  admittance. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Amelia,  "  if  the  good  Marwitz  were  here,  I 
should  not  have  to  endure  this  torture,  but  my  brother  has 
unconsciously  robbed  me  of  this  consolation.  He  has  sent 
my  friend  and  confidante  home,  and  forced  upon  me  a 
strange  and  stupid  woman  whom  I  hate." 

And  now  a  gentle  voice  plead  more  earnestly  for  admit- 
tance. 

"  I  must  indeed  open  the  door,"  said  the  princess,  un- 
willingly drawing  back  the  bolt.  "  Enter,  Mademoiselle  von 
Haak,"  said  Amelia,  turning  her  back  in  order  to  conceal  her 
red  and  swollen  eyes. 

^  Mademoiselle  von  Haak  gave  a  soft,  sad  glance  at  the 
young  princess,  and  in  a  low  voice  asked  for  pardon  for  her 
unwelcome  appearance. 

"  Without  doubt  your  reason  for  coming  will  justify 
you,"  said  the  princess.  "  I  pray  you,  therefore,  to  make  it 
known  quickly.     I  wish  to  be  alone." 

"  Alas !  your  royal  highness  is  harsh  with  me,"  whis- 
pered the  young  girl.  "  I  was  forced  upon  you.  I  know  it ; 
you  hate  me  because  I  have  taken  the  place  of  Mademoi- 
selle von  Marwitz.  I  assure  you  I  was  not  to  blame  in  this. 
It  was  only  after  the  written  and  peremptory  command  of 
his  majesty  the  king  that  my  mother  consented  to  my  ap- 
pearance at  court." 

"  Have  you  come,  mademoiselle,  simply  to  tell  me  this  ?  " 

"  Xo,  your  royal  highness ;  I  come  to  say  that  I  love  you. 
Even  since  I  had  the  honor  of  knowing  you,  I  have  loved 
you.  In  the  loneliness  which  surrounds  me  here,  my  heart 
gives  itself  up  wholly  to  you.  Oh,  do  not  spurn  me  from 
you!  Tell  me  why  you  are  sad;  let  me  bear  a  part  of  your 
sorrow.  Princess,  I  offer  you  the  heart  of  a  true  friend,  of 
a  sister— will  you  cast  me  off  ?  " 

The  young  girl  threw  herself  upon  her  knees  before  the 
princess,  and  her  cheeks  were  bathed  in  tears.  Amelia 
raised  and  embraced  her. 

"  Oh !  "  said  she,  "  I  see  that  God  has  not  utterly  for- 


286  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  Ofi, 

saken  me.  He  sends  me  aid  and  comfort  in  my  necessity. 
Will  you  be,  indeed,  my  friend  ?  " 

"Yes,  a  friend  in  whom  you  can  trust  fully,  to  whom 
you  can  speak  freely,"  said  Mademoiselle  von  Haak. 

"  Who  knows  but  that  may  be  more  dangerous  for  you 
than  for  me  ? "  sighed  Amelia.  "  There  are  fearful  secrets, 
the  mere  knowledge  of  which  brings  destruction." 

"  But  if  I  already  know  the  secret  of  your  royal  highness  ? 
— if  I  understand  the  reason  of  your  -grief  during  these  last 
few  days  ? " 

"  Well,  then,  tell  me  what  you  know." 

The  maiden  bowed  down  low  to  the  ear  of  her  mistress. 
"  Your  eyes  seek  in  vain  for  him  whom  you  love.  You 
suffer,  for  you  know  not  where  he  is." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,"  cried  Amelia.  "  I  suffer  the  an- 
guish of  uncertainty.  If  I  do  not  soon  learn  where  he  is, 
I  shall  die  in  despair." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you,  princess  ?  " 

Amelia  turned  pale  and  trembled.  "You  will  not  say 
that  he  is  in  his  grave  ?  "  said  she,  breathlessly. 

"  Xo,  your  highness,  he  lives  and  is  well." 

"  He  lives,  is  well,  and  comes  not  ?  " 

"  He  cannot  come — he  is  a  prisoner." 

"  A  prisoner!  God  be  thanked  it  is  no  wofse !  The  king 
will  obtain  his  liberation.  My  brothei"  cares  lot  his  yoimg 
officers — he  will  not  leave  him  in  the  hands  of  the  Austri- 
anl.  Oh  I  I  thank  you — I  thank  you.  You  are  indeed  a 
messenger  of  glad  tidings.  And  now  the  king  will  be 
pleased  with  me.  I  can  be  merry  and  laugh,  and  jest  with 
him." 

Mademoiselle  von  Haak  bowed  her  head  sadly,  and 
sighed.  "  He  is  not  in  an  Austrian  prison,"  she  Said,  in  low 
tones. 

"  Not  in  an  Austrian  prison  ? "  repeated  Amelia,  aston- 
ished, "  where  is  he,  then  ?  My  God  1  why  do  you  not  speak  ? 
Where  is  Trenck?  Who  has  captured  him?  Speak!  I  die 
with  impatience  and  anxiety." 

"  In  God's  name,  princess,  listen  to  me  calmly,  and  above 
all  things,  speak  softly.  I  am  sure  you  are  surrounded  by 
spies.    If  we  are  heard,  we  are  lost !  " 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    287 

"  Do  you  wish  nie  to  die  ?  "  murmured  the  princess,  sink- 
ing exhausted  upon  the  divan.    "  Where  is  Trenck  ?  " 

"  He  is  in  the  fortress  of  Glatz,"  whispered  Von  Haak. 

"Ah!  in  a  Prussian  fortress;  sent  there  by  the  king? 
He  has  committed  some  small  fault  in  discipline,  as  once  be- 
fore, and  as  this  is  the  second  offence,  the  king  punishes  him 
I  more  severelj'.  That  is  all !  I  thanlc  you ;  you  have  restored 
•  my  peace  of  mind." 

"  I  fear,  princess,  that  you  are  mistaken.  It  is  said  that 
Baron  von  Trenck  has  been  arrested  for  high  treason." 

The  princess  became  deadly  pale,  and  almost  fainted. 
She  overcame  this  weakness,  however,  quickly,  and  said  smil- 
ingly :  "  He  will  then  soon  be  free,  for  all  must  know  that  he 
is  innocent." 

"  God  grant  that  it  may  be  proved !  "  said  Mademoiselle 
von  Haak.  "  This  is  no  time  to  shrink  or  be  silent.  You 
have  a  great,  strong  heart,  and  you  love  him.  You  must 
know  all!  Listen,  therefore,  princess.  I  also  love;  I  also 
look  to  the  future  with  hope !  My  love  is  calm,  for  it  is  with- 
out danger;  it  has  my  mother's  consent  and  blessing.  Our 
only  hope  is,  that  my  lover  may  be  promoted,  and  that  the 
king  will  give  his  consent  to  our  marriage.  We  are  both 
poor,  and  rely  only  upon  the  favor  of  the  king.  He  is  now 
lieutenant,  and  is  on  duty  in  the  garrison  of  Glatz." 

"In  Glatz!  and  you  say  that  Trenck  is  a  prisoner  in 
Glatz?" 

"  Yes,  I  received  letters  yesterday  from  Schnell.  He  be- 
longs to  the  officers  who  have  guard  over  Trenck.  He 
writes  that  he  feels  the  profoundest  pity  for  this  young  man, 
and  that  he  will  joyfully  aid  him  in  every  way.  He  asks  mo 
if  I  know  no  one  who  has  the  courage  to  plead  with  the  king 
in  behalf  of  this  unhappy  youth." 

"  My  God !  my  God !  give  me  strength  to  hear  all,  and 
yet  control  myself !  "  murmured  Amelia.  "  Do  you  know 
the  nature  of  his  punishment  ?  "  said  she,  quietly. 

"  No  one  knows  positively  the  duration  of  his  punish- 
ment; but  the  commandant  of  the  fort  told  the  officers  that 
Trenck  would  be  a  prisoner  for  many  years." 

The  princess  uttered  one  wild  cry,  then  pressed  both 
hands  upon  her  lips  and  forced  herself  to  silence. 


288  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

"  What  is  the  charge  against  him  ?  "  she  said,  after  a  long 
pause. 

"  High  treason.  A  treasonable  correspondence  has  been 
discovered  between  him  and  his  cousin  the  pandour." 

The  princess  shrugged  her  shoulders  contemptuously. 
"  He  will  soon  justify  himself,  in  view  of  this  pitiful  charge ! 
His  judges  will  acknowledge  his  innocence,  and  set  him  at 
liberty.  But  why  is  he  not  already  free  ?  Why  has  he  been 
condemned?  Who  were  his  judges?  Did  you  not  say  to 
me  that  he  was  condemned  ? " 

"  My  lover  wrote  me  that  Baron  Trenck  had  written  to 
the  king  and  asked  for  a  court-martial  and  trial." 

"  This  proves  his  innocence ;  he  does  not  fear  a  trial ! 
What  was  the  king's  answer  ?  " 

"  He  ordered  the  commandant  to  place  Trenck  in  closer 
confinement,  and  to  forward  no  more  letters  from  him.  And 
now,  princess,  you  must  act  promptly;  use  all  your  power 
and  influence,  if  you  would  save  him !  " 

"  I  have  no  influence,  I  have  no  power ! "  cried  Amelia, 
with  streaming  eyes.  "  Oh !  you  do  not  know  my  brother ; 
his  heart  is  of  stone.  No  one  can  move  him — neither  his 
mother,  his  sisters,  nor  his  wife;  his  purpose  is  unchange- 
able, and  what  he  says  is  fixed.  But  I  will  show  him  that 
I  am  his  sister;  that  the  hot  blood  of  the  Hohenzollerns 
flows  also  in  my  veins.  I  will  seek  him  boldly;  I  will  avow 
that  I  love  Trenck;  I  will  demand  that  he  give  Trenck  lib- 
erty, or  give  me  death !     I  will  demand — " 

The  door  was  hastily  opened,  and  a  servant  said,  breath- 
lessly, "  The  king  is  coming !  " 

"  Xo,  he  is  already  here,"  said  the  king,  who  now  stood 
upon  the  threshold  of  the  door.  '■'  He  comes  to  beg  his  little 
sister  to  accompany  him  to  the  court-yard  and  see  the  rein- 
deer and  the  Laplanders,  sent  to  us  by  the  crown  princess  of 
Sweden." 

The  king  advanced  to  his  sister,  and  held  out  both  his 
hands.  But  Amelia  did  not  appear  to  see  this.  She  made 
a  profound  and  ceremonious  bow,  and  murmured  a  few  cold 
words  of  greeting.  The  king  frowned,  and  looked  at  her 
angrily.  He  saw  that  she  had  been  weeping,  and  his  ex- 
pression was  harsh  and  stem. 


'       FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    2S9 

"  Come,  princess !  "  said  he  imperiously. 

But  Amelia  had  now  overcome  her  terror  and  her  con- 
fusion.    She  was  resolved  to  act,  and  know  the  worst. 

"  Will  your  majesty  grant  me  an  audience  ?  I  have  some- 
thing important,  most  important  to  myself,  to  say.  I  would 
speak  more  to  the  heart  of  my  brother  than  to  the  ear  of  my 
king.  I  pray  your  majesty  to  allow  me  to  speak  with  you 
alone." 

The  king's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  with  a  dark  and 
threatening  expression,  but  she  did  not  look  down  or  tremble ; 
she  met  his  glance  firmly,  even  daringly,  and  Frederick  hesi- 
tated. "  She  will  speak  the  whole  truth  to  me,"  thought  the 
king,  "  and  I  shall  be  forced  to  act  with  severity  against  her. 
I  cannot  do  this;  I  am  not  brave  enough  to  battle  with  a 
maiden's  heart." 

"  Sister,"  said  he  aloud,  "  if  you  have  indeed  something 
to  say  to  your  brother,  and  not  to  the  king,  I  counsel  you  not 
to  speak  now.  I  have  so  much  to  do  and  hear  as  a  king,  I 
have  no  time  to  act  another  part.  Is  what  you  have  to  say 
to  me  truly  important?  Does  it  relate  to  a  rare  jewel, 
or  a  costly  robe  ? — to  some  debt,  which  your  pin-money  does 
not  suffice  to  meet? — in  short,  to  any  one  of  those  great 
matters  which  completely  fill  the  heart  of  a  young  maiden? 
If  so,  I  advise  you  to  confide  in  our  mother.  If  she  makes 
your  wishes  known  to  me,  you  are  sure  to  receive  no  denial. 
It  is  decidedly  better  for  a  young  girl  to  turn  to  her  mother 
with  her  little  wishes  and  mysteries.  If  they  are  innocent, 
her  mother  will  ever  promote  them;  if  they  are  guilty,  a 
mother's  anger  will  be  more  restrained  and  milder  than  a 
brother's  ever  can  be." 

"  You  will  not  even  listen  to  me,  my  brother  ? "  said  the 
princess,  sobbing  violently. 

The  king  threw  a  quick  glance  backward  toward  the  door 
opening  into  the  corridor,  where  the  cavaliers  and  maids  of 
honor  were  assembled,  and  looking  cuiiously  into  the  room 
of  the  princess. 

"  No !  I  will  not  listen  to  you,"  said  he,  in  a  low  tone ; 
"  but  you  shall  listen  to  me !  You  shall  not  act  a  drama  at 
my  court;  you  shall  not  give  the  world  a  cause  for  scandal; 
you  shall  not  exhibit  yourself  with  red  and  swollen  eyes; 


^90  BERLlJf  A1?D  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

that  might  be  misinterpreted.  It  might  be  said  that  the 
sister  of  the  king  did  not  rejoice  at  the  return  of  her  brother; 
that  she  was  not  patriot  enottgh  to  feel  happy  at  Prussia:'s 
release  from  the  burdens  of  war,  not  patriot  enough  to 
despise  and  forget  the  enemies  of  her  country!  I  com- 
mand you  to  be  gay,  to  conceal  your  childish  grief.  A  prin- 
cess dare  not  weep,  or,  if  she  does,  if  mti'st  be  under  the 
shadow  of  night,  when  God  only  is  with  her.  This  is  my 
counsel  and  reproof,  and  I  beg  you  to  lay  it  to  heart.  I  will 
not  command  you  to  accompany  me,  your  eyes  are  red  with 
weeping.  Remain,  then,  in  your  room,  and  that  the  time 
may  not  pass  heavily,  I  hand  you  this  letter,  which  I  have 
received  for  you." 

He  drew  a  sealed  letter  from  his  bosotn,  handed  i^  to 
Amelia,  and  left  the  room. 

"  Let  us  go,"  said  he,  nodding  to  his  courtiers ;  "  the 
princess  is  unwell,  and  cannot  accompany  us." 

Mademoiselle  von  Haak  hastened  again  to  the  boudoir. 
"  Has  yonr  royal  highness  spoken  to  the  king  ? " 

She  shook  her  head  silently,  and  with  trembling  hands 
fore  open  the  letter  given  her  by  the  king.  Breathlessly  she 
fixed  her  eyes  upon  the  writing,  uttered  one  wild  shriek,  and 
fell  insensible  upon  the  floor.  This  was  the  last  letter  she 
had  written  to  Trenck,  and  upon  the  margin  the  king  had 
written  this  one  word,  "Read."  The  king  then  knew  all; 
he  had  read  the  letter;  he  knew  of  her  engagement  to 
Trenck,  knew  how  she  loved  him,  and  he  had  no  mercy.  For 
this  was  he  condemned.  He  had  given  her  this  letter  to 
prove  to  her  that  she  had  nothing  to  hope ;  that  Trenck  v?^as 
punished,  not  for  high  treason  against  the  state,  but  because 
he  was  the  lover  of  the  princess. 

Amelia  understood  all.  With  flashing  eyes,  with  glowing 
cheeks,  she  exclaimed:  "I  will  set  him  at  liberty;  he  suffers 
becanse  he  loves  me;  for  my  sake  he  languishes  in  a  lonely 
prison.  I  will  free  him  if  it  costs  me  my  heart's  blood, 
drop  by  drop!  Now,  King  Frederick,  you  shall  see  that  I 
am  indeed  your  sister ;  that  I  have  a  will  even  like  your  own. 
My  life  belongs  to  my  beloved ;  if  I  cannot  share  it  with  him, 
I  will  offer  it  up  to  him — I  swear  this;  may  God  condemn  me 
if  I  break  my  oath !     Trenck  shall  be  free !  that  is  the  mis- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    29 J 

sion  of  my  life.  Now,  friend,  come  to  my  help;  all  that  I 
am  and  have  I  o£Fer  up.  I  have  gold,  I  have  diamonds,  I 
'"ave  an  estate  given  me  by  my  father.  I  will  sell  all  to 
liberate  him;  we  will,  if  necessary,  bribe  the  whole  garrison. 
But  now,  before  all  other  things,  I  must  write  to  him." 

"  I  promise  he  shall  receive  your  letter,"  said  Mademoi-, 
selle  von  Haak;  "I  will  send  it  to  Lieutenant  Schnell.  ij 
will  enclose  it  to  my  mother;  no  one  here  must  know  that  I 
correspond  with  an  officer  at  the  fortress  of  Glatz." 

"  No  one  dare  know  that,  till  the  day  of  Trenck's  libera- 
tion," said  Amelia,  with  a  radiant  smile. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  UiSDECEIVED. 

Since  the  day  Joseph  Fredersdorf  introduced  Lupinus 
to  Eckhof,  an  affectionate  intercourse  had  grown  up  between 
them.  They  were  very  happy  in  each  other,  and  Fredersdorf 
asserted  that  there  was  more  of  love  than  friendship  in  their 
hearts,  that  Lupinus  was  not  the  friend  but  the  bride  of  Eck- 
hof!  In  fact,  Lupinus  had  but  little  of  the  unembarrassed, 
frank,  free  manner  of  a  young  man.  He  was  modest  and 
reserved,  never  sought  Eckhof;  but  when  the  latter  came 
to  him,  his  pale  face  colored  with  a  soft  red,  and  his  great 
eyes  flashed  with  a  wondrous  glow.  Eckhof  could  rot  but 
see  how  much  his  silent  young  friend  rejoiced  in  his 
presence.  ^ 

He  came  daily  to  Lupinus.  It  strengthened  and  con- 
soled him  in  the  midst  of  his  nervous,  restless  artist-life,  to 
look  upon  the  calm,  peaceful  face  of  his  friend;  this  alone, 
without  a  word  spoken,  soothed  his  heart — agitated  by 
storms  and  passions,  and  made  him  mild  and  peaceable.  The 
quiet  room,  the  books  and  papers,  the  weighty  folios,  the 
shining,  polished  medical  instruments,  these  stem  realities, 
formed  a  strange  and  strong  contrast  to  the  dazzling,  shim- 
mering, frivolous,  false  life  of  the  stage;  and  all  this  exer* 
19 


292  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

cised  a  wondrous  influence  upon  the  artiste.  Eckiiof  came 
often,  weighed  down  with  care  and  exhaustion,  or  in  feverish 
excitement  over  some  new  vole  he  was  studying,  not  to 
speak  of  his  anxieties  and  perplexities,  but  to  sit  silently 
near  Lupinus  and  looked  calmly  upon  him. 

"  Be  silent,  my  Lupinus,"  said  Eckhof  to  him.  "  Let  me 
lay  my  storm-tossed,  wild  heart  in  the  moonlight  of  thy 
glance ;  it  will  be  warmed  and  cooled  at  the  same  time.  Let 
thy  mild  countenance  beam  upon  me,  soften  and  heal  my  ach- 
ing heart.  Look  you,  when  I  lay  my  head  thus  upon  your 
shoulder,  it  s«ems  to  me  I  have  escaped  all  trouble ;  that  only 
far  away  in  the  distance  do  I  hear  the  noise  and  tumult  of 
the  restless,  busy  world;  and  I  hear  the  voice  of  my  mother, 
even  as  I  heard  it  in  my  childish  days,  whispering  of  God, 
of  paradise,  and  the  angels.  Still,  still,  friend,  let  me  dream 
thus  upon  your  shoulder." 

He  closed  his  eyes  in  silence,  and  did  not  see  the  fond 
and  tender  expression  with  which  Lupinus  looked  down  upon 
him.  He  did  not  feel  how  violently  the  young  heart  beat, 
how  quick  the  hot  breath  came. 

At  other  times  it  was  a  consolation  to  Eckhof  to  relate, 
in  passionate  and  eloquent  words,  all  his  sorrows  and  disap- 
pointments; all  the  strifes  and  contests;  all  his  scorn  over 
the  intrigues  and  cabals  which  then,  as  now,  were  the  neces- 
sary attendants  of  a  stage-life.  Lupinus  listened  till  this 
wild  cataract  of  rage  had  ceased  to  foam,  and  he  might  hope 
that  his  soft  and  loving  words  of  consolation  could  find  an 
entrance  into  Eckhof's  heart. 

Months  went  by,  and  Lupinus,  faithful  to  the  promise 
given  to  Eckhof,  was  still  the  thoughtful,  diligent  student; 
he  sat  ever  in  quiet  meditation  upon  the  bench  of  the  audi- 
tory, and  likened  to  the  learned  dissertations  of  the  pro- 
fessors, and  studied  the  secrets  of  science  in  his  lonely  room. 

But  this  time  of  trial  was  soon  to  be  at  an  end.  Eckhof 
agreed,  that  after  Lupinus  had  passed  his  examination,  he 
should  decide  for  himself  if  he  would  abandon  the  glittering 
career  of  science  for  the  rough  and  stormy  path  of  artist- 
life.  In  the  next  few  days  this  important  event  was  to  take 
place,  and  Lupinus  would  publicly  and  solemnly  receive  his 
diploma. 


FBEDERICK    THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    293 

Lupinus  thought  but  little  of  this.  He  knew  that  the 
events  of  that  day  must  exercise  an  important  influence  upon 
his  future,  upon  the  happiness  or  unhappiness  of  his  whole 
life. 

The  day  before  the  examination  Lupinus  was  '^lone  in  his 
room.  He  said  to  himself,  "  If  the  faculty  give  me  my 
diploma,  I  will  show  myself  in  my  true  form  to  Eckhof.  I 
will  step  suddenly  before  him,  and  in  his  surprise  I  will  see 
if  his  friend  Lupinus  is  more  welcome  as — " 

He  did  not  complete  the  sentence,  but  blushing  crimson 
at  his  own  thoughts,  he  turned  away  and  took  refuge  in  his 
books;  but  the  excitement  and  agitation  of  his  soul  were 
stronger  than  his  will;  the  letters  danced  and  glimmered 
before  his  eyes;  his  heart  beat  joyfully  and  stormily;  and 
his  soul,  borne  aloft  on  bold  wings,  could  no  longer  be  held 
down  to  the  dusty  and  dreary  writing-desk;  he  sprang  up, 
threw  the  book  aside,  and  hastened  to  the  adjoining  room. 
No  other  foot  had  ever  crossed  the  threshold  of  this  still, 
small  room;  it  was  always  closed  against  the  most  faithful 
of  his  friends. 

Besides,  this  little  bedroom  concealed  a  mystery — a  mys- 
4;ery  which  would  have  excited  the  merriment  of  Fredersdorf 
and  the  wild  amazement  of  Eckhof.  On  the  bed  lay  a  vest- 
ment which  seemed  utterly  unsuited  to  the  toilet  of  a  young 
man ;  it  was  indeed  a  woman's  dress,  a  glistening  white  satin, 
such  as  young,  fair  brides  wear  on  their  wedding-day. 
There,  upon  the  table  lay  small  white,  satin  shoes,  perfumed, 
embroidered  pocket-handkerchiefs,  ribbons,  and  flowers. 
What  did  this  signify?  what  meant  this  feminine  boudoir, 
next  to  the  study  of  a  young  man?  Was  the  beloved  whom 
he  wished  to  adorn  with  this  bridal  attire  concealed  there? 
or,  was  this  only  a  costume  in  which  he  would  play  his  first 
role  as  an  actor? 

Lupinus  gazed  upon  all  these  costly  things  with  a  glad 
and  happy  heart,  and  as  he  raised  the  satin  robe  and  danced 
smilingly  to  the  great  mirror,  nothing  of  the  grave,  earnest, 
dignified  scholar  was  to  be  seen  in  his  mien;  suddenly  he 
paused,  and  stood  breathlessly  listening.  It  seemed  to  him 
Souic  one  knocked  lightly  on  the  outer  door,  then  again 
louder. 


29A  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  That  is  Eckhof,"  whispered  Lupinus,  He  left  the  mys- 
terious little  room,  hastily  closed  the  door,  and  placed  the  key 
in  his  bosom,  then  opened  the  outer  door. 

Yes,  it  was  Eckhof.  He  entered  with  a  beaming  face, 
with  a  gay  and  happy  smile.  Lupinus  had  never  seen  him 
80  joyous.  He  clasped  his  young  friend  so  ardently  in  his 
arms,  that  he  could  scarcely  breathe;  he  pressed  so  glowing 
a  kiss  upon  his  cheek,  that  Lupinus  trembled,  and  was  over- 
come by  his  own  emotion. 

"  See,  Lupinus,  how  much  I  love  you !  "  said  Eckhof. 
"  I  come  first  to  you,  that  you  may  sympathize  with  me  in  my 
great  joy.  Almost  oppressed  by  the  sense  of  heavenly  bliss, 
which  seemed  in  starry  splendor  to  overshadow  me,  I  thought, 
*  I  must  go  to  Lupinus ;  he  alone  will  understand  me.'  I  am 
here  to  say  to  you,  '  Rejoice  with  me,  for  I  am  happy.'  I 
ran  like  a  madman  through  the  streets.  Oh!  friend,  you 
have  not  seen  my  sorrow;  I  have  concealed  the  anguish  of 
my  soul.  I  loved  you  boundlessly,  and  I  w^ould  not  fill  your 
young,  pure  soul  with  sadness.  But  you  dared  look  upon  my 
rapture;  you,  my  most  faithful,  best-beloved  friend,  shall 
share  my  joy." 

"  Tell  me,  then,  at  once,  what  makes  you  happy  ?  "  said 
Lupinus,  with  trembling  lips,  and  with  the  pallor  of  death 
from  excitement  and  apprehension. 

"  And  you  ask,  my  innocent  and  modest  child,"  said 
Eckhof,  laughing.  "  You  do  not  yet  know  that  love  alone 
makes  a  man  wretched  or  infinitely  happy.  I  was  despairing 
because  I  did  not  know  if  I  was  beloved,  and  this  uncertainty 
made  a  madman  of  me." 

"  And  now  ?  "  said  Lupinus. 

"  And  now  I  am  supremely  happy — she  loves  me ;  she  has 
confessed  it  this  day.  Oh!  my  friend,  I  almost  tore  this 
sweet,  this  heavenly  secret  from  her  heart.  I  threatened  her, 
I  almost  cursed  her.  I  lay  at  her  feet,  uttering  wild  words  of 
rebuke  and  bitter  reproach.  I  was  mad  with  passion;  re- 
solved to  slay  myself,  if  she  did  not  then  and  there  disclose 
to  me  either  her  love  or  her  contempt.  I  dared  all,  to  win 
all.  She  stood  pallid  and  trembling  before  me,  and,  as  1 
railed  at  her,  she  extended  her  arms  humbly  and  pleadingly 
toward  me.    Oh!  she  was  fair  and  beautiful  as  a  pardoning 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    296 

angel,  with  these  glistening  tears  in  her  wondrous,  dreamy 
eyes,  fair  and  beautiful  as  a  houri  of  Paradise ;  when  at  last, 
carried  away  by  her  own  heart,  she  bowed  down  and  con- 
fessed that  she  loved  me;  that  she  would  be  mine — mine,  in 
Bpite  of  her  distinguished  birth,  in  spite  of  all  the  thousand 
obstacles  which  interposed.  One  wild  day  I  exclaimed,  *  Oh  I 
my  God,  my  God !  I  am  set  apart  to  be  an  artiste ;  thou  hast 
consecrated  me  by  misfortune.'  To-day,  I  feel  that  only  i 
when  I  am  truly  happy  can  I  truly  create.  From  this  day 
alone  will  I  truly  be  an  artiste.  I  have  now  received  the 
heavenly  consecration  of  happiness." 

Eckhof  looked  down  upon  his  young  friend.  When  he 
gazed  upon  the  fair  and  ashy  countenance,  the  glassy  eyes 
staring  without  expression  in  the  distance,  the  blue  lips  con- 
vulsively pressed  together,  he  became  suddenly  silent. 

"  Lupinus,  you  are  ill  1  you  suffer ! "  he  said,  opening 
his  arms  and  trying  to  clasp  his  friend  once  more  to  his 
breast.  But  the  touch  of  his  hand  made  Lupinua  tremble, 
and  awakened  him  from  his  trance.  One  wild  shriek  rang 
from  his  bosom,  a  stream  of  tears  gushed  from  his  eyes,  and 
he  sank  almost  insensible  to  the  floor. 

"  My  friend,  my  beloved  friend ! "  cried  Eckhof,  "  youj 
suffer,  and  are  silent.  What  is  it  that  overpowers  youf 
What  is  this  great  grief  ?  Why  do  you  weep  ?  Let  me  share 
and  alleviate  your  sorrow." 

"  No,  no  1 "  cried  Lupinus,  rising,  "  I  do  not  suffer ;  I 
have  no  pain,  no  cause  of  sorrow.  Do  not  touch  me;  your 
lightest  touch  wounds !     Go,  go !     leave  me  alone  I  " 

"  You  love  me  not,  then  ?  "  said  Eckhof.  "  You  suffer, 
and  will  not  confide  in  me  ?  you  weep  bitterly,  and  command 
me  to  leave  you  ?  " 

"  And  he  thinks  that  I  do  not  love  him,"  murmured  Lu- 
pinus, with  a  weary  smile.  "  My  God !  whom,  then,  do  I 
loveT' 

"If  your  friendship  for  me  were  true  and  genuine,  you 
would  trust  me,"  said  Eckhof.  "  I  have  made  you  share  in 
my  happiness,  and  I  demand  the  holy  right  of  sharing  your 
grief." 

Lupinus  did  not  reply.  Eckhof  lifted  him  gently  in  his 
arms,  and  laying  him  upon  the  sofa,  took  a  seat  near  him. 


296  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOITCI;  OR, 

He  laid  his  arms  around  him,  placed  his  head  upon  his 
bosom,  and  in  a  soft,  melodious  voice,  whispered  words  of 
comfort,  encouragement,  and  love.  The  young  man  trem- 
bled convulsively,  and  wept  without  restraint. 

Suddenly  he  raised  himself;  the  agony  was  over;  his 
lips  slightly  trembled,  but  he  pressed  them  together;  his 
eyes  were  full  of  tears,  but  he  shook  his  head  proudly,  and 
dashed  them  from  him. 

"It  is  past,  all  past!  my  dream  has  dispersed.  I  am 
awake  once  more !  " 

"  And  now,  Lupinus,  you  will  tell  me  all  ?  " 

"  No,  not  now,  but  to-morrow.  To-morrow  you  shall 
know  all.  Therefore,  go,  my  friend,  and  leave  me  alone. 
Go  to  her  you  love,  gaze  in  her  eyes,  and  see  in  them  a  starry 
heaven;  then  think  of  me,  whose  star  is  quenched,  who  is 
bowed  down  under  a  heavy  load  of  affliction.  Go !  go !  if 
you  love  me,  go  at  once ! " 

"  I  love  you,  therefore  I  obey  you,  but  my  heart  is  heavy 
for  you,  and  my  own  happiness  is  clouded.  But  I  go;  to- 
morrow you  will  tell  me  all  ? " 

"  To-morrow." 

"  But  when,  when  do  we  meet  again  ?  " 

"  To-morrow,  at  ten,  we  will  see  each  other.  At  that 
time  I  am  to  receive  my  diploma.  I  pray  you,  bring  Fre- 
dersdorf  with  you." 

"  So  be  it ;  to-morrow,  at  ten,  in  the  university.  Till 
then,  farewell." 

"  Farewell." 

They  clasped  hands,  looked  deep  into  each  other's  eyes, 
and  took  a  silent  leave.  Lupinus  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  and  gazed  after  Eckhof  till  he  had  reached  the  thresh- 
old, then  rushed  forward,  threw  himself  upon  his  neck, 
clasped  him  in  his  arms,  and  murmured,  in  a  voice  choked 
with  tears :  "  Farewell,  farewell !  Think  of  me,  Eckhof ! 
think  that  no  woman  has  ever  loved  you  as  I  have  loved  you ! 
God  bless  you !  God  bless  you,  my  beloved ! " 

One  last  glowing  kiss,  one  last  earnest  look,  and  he 
pushed  him  forward  and  closed  the  door;  then  with  a  wild 
cry  ^ank  upon  the  floor. 

How  long  he  lay  there,  how  long  he  wept,  prayed,  and  de- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     297 

spaired,  he  knew  not  himself.  The  hours  of  anguish  drag 
slowly  and  drearily;  the  moments  given  to  weeping  seem  to 
stretch  out  to  eternity.  Suddenly  he  heard  heavy  steps  upon 
the  stairs;  he  recognized  them,  and  knew  what  they  sig- 
nified. The  door  opened,  and  two  men  entered:  the  first 
with  a  proud,  imposing  form,  with  gray  hair,  and  stern, 
strongly- marked  features;  the  other,  a  young  man,  pale  anci 
delicate,  with  a  mild  and  soft  countenance. 

The  old  man  looked  at  Lupinus  with  a  frowning  brow 
and  angry  glance ;  the  other  greeted  him  with  a  sweet  smile, 
and  his  clear  blue  eye  rested  upon  him  with  an  expression  of 
undying  love. 

"  My  father !  "  said  Lupinus,  hastening  forward  to  throw 
himself  into  his  arms;  but  he  waved  him  back,  and  his  look 
was  darker,  sterner.  ** 

"  We  have  received  your  letter,  and  therefore  are  we 
here  to-day.  We  hope  and  believe  it  was  written  in  fever  or 
in  madness.  If  we  are  mistaken  in  this,  you  shall  repeat  to 
us  what  was  written  in  that  letter,  which  I  tore  and  trampled 
imder  my  feet.     Speak,  then !  we  came  to  listen." 

"  Not  so,"  said  the  young  man,  "  recover  yourself  fir$t ; 
consider  your  words;  reflect  that  they  will  decide  the  ques- 
tion of  your  own  happiness,  of  your  father's,  and  of  mine. 
Be  firm  and  sure  in  your  determination.  Let  no  thought  of 
others,  no  secondary  consideration  influence  you.  Think 
only  of  your  own  happiness,  and  endeavor  to  build  it  upon 
a  sure  foundation." 

Lupinus  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  I  have  no  happiness,  I 
expect  none." 

"  What  was  written  in  that  letter  ? "  said  the  old  Lupinus 
sternly. 

"  That  I  had  been  faithful  to  my  oath,  and  betrayed  the 
secret  I  promised  you  to  guard,  to  no  one ;  that  to-morrow  I 
would  receive  my  diploma ;  that  you  had  promised,  when.  I 
had  accomplished  this  I  should  be  free  to  choose  my  own 
future,  and  to  confess  my  secret." 

"  Was  that  all  the  letter  contained  ?  " 

"  No — that  I  had  resolved  to  choose  a  new  career,  re- 
solved to  leave  the  old  paths,  to  break  away  from  the  past, 
and  begin  a  new  life  at  Eckhof's  side." 


298  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  My  child  at  the  side  of  a  comediau ! "  cried  the  old 
doctor  contemptuously.  "  Yes,  I  remember  that  was  writ- 
ten, but  I  believed  it  not,  and  therefore  have  I  come.  Was 
your  letter  true  ?     Did  you  write  the  truth  to  Ervelman  ?  " 

Lupinus  cast  his  eyes  down,  and  gave  his  hand  to  his 
father.  "  Xo,"  said  he,  "  it  was  not  true ;  it  was  a  fantasy  of 
fever.  It  is  past,  and  I  have  recovered.  To-morrow,  after 
I  receive  my  diploma,  I  will  accompany  you  home,  and  you, 
friend,  will  go  with  us." 

The  next  day  the  students  rushed  in  crowds  to  the  uni- 
versity to  listen  to  the  discourse  of  the  learned  and  worthy 
Herr  Lupinus.  I»I^ot  only  the  students  and  the  professors, 
but  many  other  persons,  were  assembled  in  the  hall  to  honor 
the  young  man,  of  whom  the  professors  said  that  he  was  not 
only  a  rilftdel  of  scholarship,  but  of  modesty  and  virtue. 
Even  actors  were  seen  to  grace  the  holy  halls  of  science  on 
this  occasion,  and  the  students  laughed  with  delight  and 
cried  "  Bravo !  "  as  they  recognized  near  Fredersdorf  the 
noble  and  sharp  profile  of  Eckhof.  They  had  often  rushed 
madly  to  the  theatre;  why  should  he  not  sometimes  honor 
the  university? 

But  Eckhof  was  indifferent  to  the  joyful  greeting  of  the 
students;  he  gazed  steadily  toward  the  door,  through  which 
his  young  friend  must  enter  the  hall;  and  now,  as  the  hour 
struck,  he  stooped  over  Fredersdorf  and  seized  his  hand. 

"  Friend,"  said  he,  "  a  wondrous  anxiety  oppresses  me. 
It  seems  to  me  I  am  in  the  presence  of  a  sphinx,  who  is  in 
the  act  of  solving  a  great  mystery!  I  am  a  coward,  and 
would  take  refuge  in  flight,  but  curiosity  binds  me  to  my 
seat." 

"  You  promised  poor  Lupinus  to  be  here,"  said  Fre- 
dersdorf, earnestly.  "  It  is,  perhaps,  the  last  friendly  ser- 
vice you  can  ever  show  him —    Ah !  there  he  is," 

A  cry  of  surprise  burst  from  the  lips  of  all.  There,  in 
the  open  door,  stood,  not  the  student  Lupinus,  but  a  young 
maiden,  in  a  white  satin  robe — a  young  maiden  with  the 
pale,  thoughtful,  gentle  face  of  Lupinus.  A  man  stood  on 
each  side  of  her,  and  she  leaned  upon  the  arm  of  one  of  them, 
as  if  for  support,  as  they  walked  slowly  through  the  room. 
Her  large  eyes  wandered  questioningly  and  anxiously  over 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    299 

the  audience ;  and  now,  her  glance  met  Eckhof 's,  and  a  dead- 
ly pallor  covered  her  face.  She  tried  to  smile,  and  bowed 
her  head  in  greeting. 

"  This  is  the  secret  from  which  I  wished  to  fly,"  mur- 
mured Eckhof.     "  I  guessed  it  yesterday." 

"  I  knew  it  long  since,"  said  Fredersdorf ,  sadly ;  "  it  was 
my  most  beautiful  and  cherished  dream  that  your  hearts 
should  find  and  love  each  other.  Have  I  not  often  told  you 
that  Lupinus  was  not  your  friend,  but  your  bride;  that  no 
woman  would  ever  love  you  as  he  did?  You  would  not 
understand  me.  Your  heart  was  of  stone,  and  her  happiness 
has  been  crushed  by  it." 

"  Poor,  unhappy  girl !  "  sighed  Eckhof,  and  tears  ran 
slowly  down  his  cheeks.  "  I  have  acted  the  part  of  a  bar- 
barian toward  you!  Yesterday  with  smiling  lips  I  pressed 
a  dagger  in  her  heart ;  she  did  not  curse,  but  blessed  me !  " 

"  Listen !  she  speaks !  " 

It  was  the  maiden's  father  who  spoke.  In  simple  phrase 
he  asked  forgiveness  of  the  Faculty,  for  having  dared  to 
send  them  a  daughter,  in  place  of  a  son.  But  it  had  been 
his  cherished  wish  to  prove  that  only  the  arrogance  and 
prejudice  of  men  had  banished  women  from  the  universities. 
Heaven  had  denied  him  a  son.  He  had  soon  discovered  that 
his  daughter  was  rarely  endowed ;  he  determined  to  educate 
her  as  a  son,  and  thus  repair  the  loss  fate  had  prepared  for 
him.  His  daughter  entered  readily  into  his  plans,  and  sol- 
emnly swore  to  guard  her  secret  until  she  had  completed  her 
studies.  She  had  fulfilled  this  promise,  and  now  stood  here 
to  ask  the  Faculty  if  they  would  grant  a  woman  a  diploma. 

The  professors  spoke  awhile  with  each  other,  and  then 
announced  to  the  audience  that  Lupinus  had  been  the  most 
industrious  and  promising  of  all  their  students;  the  pride 
and  favorite  of  all  the  professors.  The  announcement  that 
she  was  a  woman  would  make  no  change  in  her  merit  or 
their  intentions;  that  the  maiden  Lupina  would  be  re- 
ceived by  them  with  as  much  joy  and  satisfaction  as  the 
youth  Lupinus  would  have  been.  The  disputation  might 
now  begin. 

A  murmur  of  applause  was  heard  from  the  benches,  and 
now  the  clear,  soft,  but  slightly  trembling  voice  of  the  young 


300  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

girl  commenced  to  read.  How  strangely  did  the  heavy, 
pompous  Latin  words  contrast  with  the  slight,  fairy  form 
of  the  youthful  girl !  She  stood  adorned  like  a  bride,  in  satin 
array;  not  like  a  bride  of  earth,  inspired  by  love,  but  a  bride 
of  heaven,  in  the  act  of  laying  down  before  God's  altar  all 
her  earthly  hopes  and  passions!  She  felt  thus.  She  dedi- 
cated herself  to  a  joyless  and  unselfish  existence  at  the  altar 
of  science;  she  would  not  lead  an  idle,  useless,  musing, 
cloister-life.  With  a  holy  oath  she  swore  to  serve  her  race; 
to  soothe  the  pain  of  those  who  suffered;  to  stand  by  the 
sick-beds  of  women  and  children ;  to  give  that  love  to  suffer- 
ing, weeping  humanity  which  she  had  once  consecrated  to 
one  alone,  and  which  had  come  home,  like  a  bleeding  dove, 
with  broken  wings,  powerless  and  hopeless ! 

The  disputation  was  at  an  end.  The  deacon  declared  the 
maiden,  Dorothea  Christine  Lupinus,  a  doctor.  The  stu- 
dents uttered  wild  applause,  and  the  professors  drew  near  the 
old  Lupinus,  to  congratulate  him,  and  to  renew  the  acquaint- 
ance of  former  days. 

The  fair  young  Bride  of  Arts  thought  not  of  this.  She 
looked  toward  Eckhof;  their  glances  were  rooted  in  each 
other  firmly  but  tearlessly.  She  waved  to  him  with  her  hand, 
and  obedient  to  her  wish  he  advanced  to  the  door,  then 
turned  once  more;  their  eyes  met,  and  she  had  the  courage 
to  look  softly  upon  the  friend  of  her  youth,  Ervelman,  who 
had  accompanied  her  father,  and  say: 

"  I  will  fulfil  my  father's  vow — I  will  be  a  faithful  wife. 
Look,  you,  Ervelman,  the  star  has  gone  out  which  blinded 
my  eyes,  and  now  I  see  again  clearly."  She  pointed,  with  a 
trembling  hand,  to  Eckhof,  who  was  disappearing. 

"  Friend,"  said  Eckhof,  to  Fredersdorf,  "  if  the  gods  truly 
demand  a  great  sacrifice  as  a  propitiation,  I  tJiink  I  have  of- 
fered one  this  day.  I  have  cast  my  Polycrates'  ring  into  the 
sea,  and  a  part  of  my  heart's  blood  was  cleaving  to  it.  May 
fate  be  reconciled,  and  grant  me  the  happiness  this  pale  and 
lovely  maiden  has  consecrated  with  her  tears.  Farewell, 
Christine,  farewell !  Our  paths  in  life  are  widely  separated. 
Who  knows,  perhaps  we  will  meet  again  in  heaven?  You 
belong  to  ihe  saints,  and  I  am  a  poor  comedian,  who  makes 
a  false  show  throughout  a  wild,  tumiiltuous  life,  with  some 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    301 

pompous  shreds  and  tatters  of  art  and  beauty,  to  whom,  per- 
haps, the  angels  in  heaven  will  deny  a  place,  even  as  the 
priests  on  earth  deny  him  a  grave."  * 


CHAPTER  XII. 
trenck's  first  flight. 

"  This  is,  then,  the  day  of  his  liberation  ?  "  said  Princess 
Amelia  to  her  confidante,  Mademoiselle  von  Haak.  "  To- 
day, after  five  months  of  torture,  he  will  again  be  free,  will 
again  enjoy  life  and  liberty.  And  to  me,  happy  princess, 
will  he  owe  all  these  blessings ;  to  me,  -whom  God  has  per- 
mitted to  survive  all  these  torments,  that  I  might  be  the 
means  of  effecting  his  deliverance,  for,  without  doubt,  our 
work  will  succeed,  will  it  not?  " 

"  Undoubtedly,"  said  Ernestine  von  Haak ;  "  we  shall  and 
must  succeed." 

"  Let  us  reconsider  the  whole  plan,  if  only  to  enliven  the 
tedious  hours  with  pleasant  thought.  When  the  comman- 
dant of  the  prison.  Major  von  Doo,  pays  the  customary  Sun- 
day-morning visit  to  Trenck's  cell,  and  while  he  is  carefully 
examining  every  nook  to  assure  himself  that  the  captive 
nobleman  has  not  been  endeavoring  to  make  a  pathway  to 
liberty,  Trenck  will  suddenly  overpower  him,  deprive  him 
of  his  sword,  and  rush  past  him  out  of  the  cell.  At  the  door 
he  will  be  met  by  the  soldier  Nicolai,  who  is  in  our  confi- 
dence, and  will  not  seem  to  notice  his  escape.  Once  over  the 
palisades,  he  will  find  a  horse,  which  we  have  placed  in  readi- 
ness. Concealed  by  the  military  cloak  thrown  over  him,  and 
armed  with  the  pistols  with  which  his  saddle-holsters  have 
been  furnished,  he  will  fly  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  toward 
Bohemia.  Near  the  border,  at  the  village  of  Lonnschiitz,  a 
second  horse  will  await  him.     Pie  will  mount  and  hurry  on 

*  Eckhof  lived  to  awake  respect  and  lovo  for  the  national  theatre  through- 
out all  Germany.  He  had  his  own  theatre  in  Gotha.  where  he  was  born,  and 
where  he  died  in  1778. .  He  performed  the  double  .service  of  exalting  the 
German  stage,  and  obtaining  for  the  actors  consideration  and  respect. 


802  BERLIN  AifD  SANS-SOtTOl;  0», 

until  the  boundary  and  liberty  are  obtained.  All  seems  so 
safe,  Ernestine,  so  easy  of  execution,  that  I  can  scarcely  be- 
lieve in  the  possibility  of  a  failure." 

"  It  will  not  fail,"  said  Ernestine  von  Haak.  "  Our 
scheme  is  good,  and  will  be  ably  assisted — it  must  succeed." 

"  Provided  he  find  the  places  where  the  horses  stand  con- 
cealed." 

"  These  he  cannot  fail  to  find.  They  are  accurately' 
designated  in  a  little  note  which  my  lover,  when  he  has 
charge  of  the  prison*yard,  will  contrive  to  convey  to  him. 
Schnell's  known  fidelity  vouches  for  the  horses  being  in 
readiness.  As  your  royal  highness  was  not  willing  that  we 
should  enlist  accomplices  among  the  soldiers,  the  only  ques- 
tion that  need  give  us  uneasiness  is  this:  Will  Trenck  be 
able  to  overcome  unaided  all  obstacles  within  the  fortifica- 
tions ? " 

"  i^o,"  said  Amelia,  proudly ;  "  Trenck  shall  be  liberated, 
but  I  will  not  corrupt  my  brother's  soldiers.  To  do  the  first, 
is  my  right  and  my  duty,  for  I  love  Trenck.  Should  I  do  the 
second,  I  would  be  guilty  of  high  treason  to  my  king,  and  this 
even  love  could  not  excuse.  Only  to  himself  and  to  me  shall 
Trenck  owe  his  freedom.  Our  only  allies  shall  be  my  means 
and  his  own  strength.  He  has  the  courage  of  a  hero  and  the  , 
strength  of  a  giant.  He  will  force  his  way  through  his  ene- 
mies like  Briareus;  they  will  fall  before  him  like  grain  be- 
fore the  reaper.  If  he  cannot  kill  them  all  with  his  sword, 
he  wiH  annihilate  them  with  the  lightning  of  his  glances, 
for  a  heavenly  power  dwells  in  his  eyes.  Moreover,  your 
lover  writes  that  he  is  beloved  by  the  ofiicers  of  the  garrison, 
that  all  the  soldiers  sympathize  with  him.  It  is  well  that  it 
is  not  necessary  to  bribe  them  with  miserable  dross;  Trenck 
has  already  bribed  them  with  his  youth  and  manly  beauty, 
his  misfortunes  and  his  amiability.  He  win  find  no  opposi- 
tion ;  no  one  will  dispute  his  passage  to  liberty." 

"  God  grant  that  it  may  be  as  your  highness  predicts ! " 
said  Ernestine,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Four  days  of  uncertainty  are  still  before  us — ^would 
that  they  had  passed !  "  exclaimed  Princess  Amelia.  "  I 
have  no  doubts  of  his  safety,  but  I^fear  I  shall  not  survive 
these  four  days  of  anxiety.    Impatience  will  destroy  me. 

/ 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    303 

I  had  the  courage  to  endure  misery,  but  I  feel  already  that 
the  expectation  of  happiness  tortures  me.  God  grant,  at 
least,  that  his  freedom  is  secured !  " 

"  Xever  speak  of  dying  with  the  rosy  cheeks  and  spark- 
ling eyes  your  highness  has  to-day,"  said  Mademoiselle  von 
Ilaak,  with  a  smile.  "  Your  increasing  pallor,  caused  no 
<loubt  by  your  grief,  has  given  me  much  pain,  I  am  no 
longer  uneasy'  however,  for  you  have  recovered  health  and 
strength,  now  that  you  are  again  hopeful.  As  for  the  four 
days  of  expectancy,  we  will  kill  them  with  merry  laughter, 
gayety,  and  dancing.  Does  not  the  queen  give  a  ball  to-day  ? 
is  there  not  a  masquerade  at  the  opera  to-morrow?  For 
the  last  five  months  your  highness  has  taken  part  in  these 
festivities  because  you  were  compelled;  you  will  now  do  so 
of  your  own  accord.  You  will  no  longer  dance  because  the 
king  commands,  but  because  you  are  young,  happy,  and  full 
of  hope  for  the  future.  On  the  first  and  second  day  you  will 
dance  and  fatigue  yourself  so  much,  that  you  will  have  the 
happiness  of  sleeping  a  great  deal  on  the  third.  The  fourth 
day  will  dawn  upon  your  weary  eyes,  and  whisper  in  your 
ear  that  Trenck  is  free,  and  that  it  is  you  who  have  given 
him  his  freedom." 

"  Yes,  let  us  be  gay,  let  us  laugh,  dance,  and  be  merry," 
exclaimed  Princess  Amelia.  "  My  brother  shall  be  satisfied 
with  me ;  he  need  no  longer'  regard  me  in  so  gloomy  and 
threatening  a  manner;  I  will  laugh  and  jest,  I  will  adorn 
myself,  and  surpass  all  the  ladies  with  the  magnificence  of 
my  attire  and  my  sparkling  eyes.  Come,  Ernestine,  come. 
We  will  arrange  my  toilet  for  this  evening.  It  shall  be  mag- 
nificent. I  will  wear  flowers  in  my  hair  and  flowers  on  my 
breast,  but  no  pearls.  Pearls  signify  tears,  and  I  will  weep 
no  more." 

Joyously  she  danced  through  the  room,  drawing  her 
friend  to  the  boudoir;  joyously  she  passed  the  three  follow- 
ing days  of  expectation ;  joyously  she  closed  her  eyes  on  the 
evening  of  the  third  day,  to  see,  in  her  dreams,  her  lover 
kneeling  at  her  feet,  thanking  her  for  his  liberty,  and  vowing 
eternal  fidelity  and  gratitude. 

Amelia  greeted  the  fourth  day  with  a  happy  smile,  never 
doubting  but  that  it  would  bring  her  glad  tidings,    Put 


304  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

hours  passed  away,  and  still  Mademoiselle  von  Haak  did  not 
appear.  Amelia  had  said  to  her :  "  I  do  not  wish  to  see  you 
to-morrow  until  you  can  bring  me  good  news.  This  will, 
however,  be  in  your  power  at  an  early  hour,  and  you  shall 
flutter  into  my  chamber  with  these  tidings,  like  the  dove 
with  the  olive-branch." 

Mademoiselle  von  Haak  has  still  not  yet  arrived.  But 
now  the  door  opens — she  is  there,  but  her  face  is  pale,  her 
eyes  tearful;  and  this  pale  lady  in  black,  whose  noble  and 
beautiful  features  recall  to  Amelia  such  charming  and  de- 
lightful remembrances — who  is  she?  What  brings  her  here? 
Why  does  she  hurry  forward  to  the  princess  with  streaming 
eyes?  Why  does  she  kneel,  raise  her  hands  imploringly, 
and  whisper,  "  Mercy,  Princess  Amelia,  mercy !  " 

Amelia  rises  from  her  seat,  pale  and  trembling,  gazes 
with  widely  extended  eyes  at  the  kneeling  figure,  and,  al- 
most speechless  with  terror,  asks  in  low  tones,  "  Who  are 
*  you,  madame  ?     What  do  you  desire  of  me  ?  " 

The  pale  woman  at  her  feet  cries  in  heart-rending  ac- 
cents, "  I  am  the  mother  of  the  unfortunate  Frederick  von 
Trenck,  and  I  come  to  implore  mercy  at  the  hands  of  your 
royal  highness.  My  son  attempted  to  escape,  but  God  did 
not  favor  his  undertaking.  He  was  overtaken  by  misfor- 
tune, after  having  overcome  almost  all  obstacles,  when  noth- 
ing but  the  palisades  separated  him  from  liberty  and  safety; 
he  was  attacked  by  his  pursuers,  disarmed,  and  carried  back 
to  prison,  wounded  and  bleeding."  * 

Amelia  uttered  a  cry  of  horror,  and  fell  back  on  her  seat 
pale  and  breathless,  almost  senseless.  Mademoiselle  von 
Haak  took  her  gently  in  her  arms,  and,  amid  her  tears,  whis- 
pered words  of  consolation,  of  sympathy,  and  of  hope.  But 
Amelia  scarcely  heeded  her;  she  looked  down  vacantly  upon 
the  pallid,  weeping  woman  who  still  knelt  at  her  feet. 

"Have  mercy,  princess,  have  mercy!  You  alone  can  as- 
sist me ;  therefore  have  I  come  to  you ;  therefore  have  I 
entreated  Mademoiselle  von  Haak  with  tears  until  she  could 
no  longer  refuse  to  conduct  me  to  your  presence.  Regard- 
less, at  last,  of  etiquette  and  ceremony,  she  permitted  me  to 
fall  at  your  feet,  and  to  cry  to  you  for  help.  You  are  aa 
*  Trenck's  Biography,  L,  80. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    305 

angel  of  goodness  and  mercy;  pity  an  unfortunate  mother, 
who  wishes  to  save  her  son !  " 

"  And  you  believe  that  I  can  do  this  ? "  said  Amelia, 
breathlessly. 

"  You  alone,  royal  highness,  have  the  power  to  save  my 
son's  life !  " 

"  Tell  me  by  what  means,  countess,  and  I  will  save  him, 
if  it  costs  my  heart's  blood." 

"  Conduct  me  to  the  king.  That  is  all  that  I  require  of 
you.  He  has  not  yet  been  informed  of  my  son's  unfortunate 
attempt.  I  must  be  the  first  to  bring  him  this  intelligence.  I 
will  confess  that  it  was  I  who  assisted  my  son  in  this  at- 
tempt, who  bribed  the  non-commissioned  officer,  Nicolai, 
with  flattery  and  tears,  with  gold  and  promises ;  that  it  was  I 
who  placed  the  horses  and  loaded  pistols  in  readiness  beyond 
the  outer  palisade;  that  I  sent  my  son  the  thousand  ducats 
which  were  found  on  his  person;  that  I  wrote  him  the  letter 
containing  vows  of  eternal  love  and  fidelity.  The  king  will 
pardon  a  mother  who,  in  endeavoring  to  liberate  her  son,  left 
no  means  of  success  untried." 

"You  are  a  noble,  a*^enerous  woman!"  exclaimed  the 
princess,  with  enthusiasm.  "  You  are  worthy  to  be  Trenck's 
mother!  You  say  that  I  must  save  him,  and  you  have  come 
to  save  me !  But  I  will  not  accept  this  sacrifice ;  I  will  not 
be  cowardly  and  timidly  silent,  when  you  have  the  courage 
to  speak.  Let  the  king  know  all;  let  him  know  that  Trenck 
was  not  the  son,  but  the  lover  of  her  who  endeavored  to  give 
-   him  his  freedom,  and  that — " 

"  If  you  would  save  him,  be  silent !  The  king  can  be 
merciful  when  it  was  the  mother  who  attempted  to  liberate 
the  son;  he  will  be  inexorable  if  another  has  made  this  mad 
attempt;  and,  above  all,  if  he  cannot  punish  the  transgressor, 
my  son's  punishment  will  be  doubled." 

"  Listen  to  her  words,  princess,  adopt  her  counsel,"  whis- 
pered the  weeping  Ernestine.  "  Preserve  yourself  for  the 
unfortunate  Trenck;  protect  his  friends  by  your  silence, 
and  we  may  still  hope  to  form  a  better  and  happier  plan 
of  escape." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  the  princess  with  a  sigh.  "  I  will  bring 
him  this  additional  sacrifice.     I  will  be  silent.     God  knows 


306  BERLIN  AKD  SAKS-SOtTCI;  OH, 

that  I  would  willingly  lay  down  my  life  for  him.  I  would 
find  this  easier  than  to  veil  my  love  in  cowardly  ailence. 
Come,  I  will  conduct  you  to  the  king." 

"  But  I  have  not  yet  told  your  royal  highness  that  the 
king  is  in  his  library,  and  has  ordered  that  no  one  should  be 
admitted  to  his  presence." 

"  I  will  be  admitted.  I  will  conduct  you  through  the 
private  corridor  and  the  king's  apartments,  and  not  by  the 
way  of  the  grand  antechamber.     Come." 

She  seized  the  countess's  hand  and  led  her  away. 

The  king  was  alone  in  his  library,  sitting  at  a  table  cov- 
ered with  books  and  papers,  busily  engaged  in  writing. 
From  time  to  time  he  paused,  and  thoughtfully  regarded 
what  he  had  written.  "  I  have  commenced  a  new  work, 
which  it  is  to  be  hoped  will  be  as  great  a  success  in  the  field 
of  science  as  several  that  I  have  achieved  vith  the  sword 
on  another  field.  I  know  my  wish  and  my  aim;  I  have 
undertaken  a  truly  noble  task.  I  will  write  the  history  of 
my  times,  not  in  the  form  of  memoirs,  nor  as  a  commentary, 
but  as  a  free,  independent,  and  impartial  history.  I  will 
describe  the  decline  of  Europe,  anTl  will  endeavor  to  portray 
the  follies  and  weaknesses  of  her  rulers.*  My  respected  col- 
leagues, the  kings  and  princes,  have  provided  me  with  rich 
materials  for  a  ludicrous  picture.  To  do  this  work  justice, 
the  pencil  of  a  Hollenbreughel  and  the  pen  of  a  Thucydi- 
des  were  desirable.  Ah!  glory  is  so  piquant  a  dish,  that 
the  more  we  indulge,  the  more  we  thirst  after  its  enjoy- 
ment. Why  am  I  not  satisfied  with  being  called  a  good  gen- 
eral? why  do  I  long  for  the  honor  of  being  crowned  in  the 
capitol  ?  Well,  it  certainly  will  not  be  his  holiness  the  pope 
who  crowns  me  or  elevates  me  to  the  rank  of  a  saint — truly, 
I  am  not  envious  of  such  titles.  I  shall  be  contented  if  pos- 
terity shall  call  me  a  good  prince,  a  brave  soldier,  and  a  good 
lawgiver,  and  forgives  me  for  having  sometimes  mounted 
the  Pegasus  instead  of  the  war  horse." 

With  a  merry  smile,  the  king  now  resumed  his  writing. 
The  door  which  communicated  with  his  apartments  was 
opened  softly,  and  Princess  Amelia,  her  countenance  pale 

*  The  king's  own  words.    "  CBuvrea  poethumes :  Cerrespondance  avec 
VoHaite." 


FREDERICK  THE  GR^AT  AND  filS  FRIENDS.    30? 

and  sorrowful,  looked  searchingly  into  the  room.  Seeing 
that  the  king  was  still  writing,  she  knocked  gently.  The 
king  turned  hastily  and  angrily. 

"  Did  I  not  say  that  I  desired  to  be  alone  ? "  said  he,  in- 
dignantly. Perceiving  his  sister,  he  now  arose,  an  ex- 
pression of  anxiety  pervading  his  countenance.  "  Ah,  my 
sister !  your  sad  face  proclaims  you  the  bearer  of  bad  news,'^ 
said  he ;  "  and  very  important  it  must  have  been  to  bring  you 
unannounced  to  my  presence." 

"  My  brother,  misfortune  has  always  the  privilege  of  com- 
ing unannounced  to  the  presence  of  princes,  to  implore  pity 
and  mercy  at  their  hands.  I  claim  this  holy  privilege  for 
the  unfortunate  lady  who  has  prayed  for  my  intercession  in 
her  behalf.  Sire,  will  you  graciously  accord  her  an  audi- 
ence ? " 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  asked  the  king,  discontentedly. 

"  Sire,  it  is  the  Countess  Lostange,"  said  Amelia,  in  a 
scarcely  audible  voice. 

"  The  mother  of  the  rebellious  Lieutenant  von  Trenck ! " 
exclaimed  the  king,  in  an  almost  threatening  tone,  his  eyes 
flashing  angrily. 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  mother  of  the  imfortunate  Von  Trenck 
who  implores  mercy  of  your  majesty !  "  exclaimed  the  count- 
ess, falling  on  her  knees  at  the  threshold  of  the  door. 

The  king  recoiled  a  step,  and  his  eye  grew  darker. 
"  Really,  you  obtain  your  audiences  in  a  daring  manner — 
you  conquer  them,  and  make  the  princess  your  herald." 

"  Sire,  I  was  refused  admission.  In  the  anguish  of  my 
heart,  I  turned  to  the  princess,  who  was  generous  enough  to 
incur  the  displeasure  of  her  royal  brother  for  my  sake." 

"  And  was  that  which  you  had  to  say  really  so  urgent  ?  " 

"  Sire,  for  five  months  has  my  son  been  languishing  in 
prison,  and  you  ask  if  there  is  an  urgent  necessity  for  his 
mother's  appeal.  My  son  has  incurred  your  majesty's  dis- 
pleasure; why,  I  know  not.  He  is  a  prisoner,  and  stands 
accused  of  I  know  not  what.  Be  merciful — let  me  know  his 
crime,  that  I  may  endeavor  to  atone  for  it." 

"  Madame,  a  mother  is  not  responsible  for  her  son ;  a 
woman  cannot  atone  for  a  man's  crimes.  Leave  your  son  to 
his  destiny;  it  may  be  a  brighter  one  at  some  future  day, 
SO 


808  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

if  he  is  wise  and  prudent,  anji  heeds  the  warning  which  is 
now  knocking  at  his  benighted  heart."  At  these  words,  the 
king's  glance  rested  for  a  moment  on  the  countenance  of  the 
princess,  as  if  this  warning  had  also  been  intended  for  her. 

"  It  is,  then,  your  majesty's  intention  to  cheer  a  mother's 
heart  with  hope?  My  son  will  not  be  long  a  captive.  You 
will  pardon  him  for  this  crime  of  which  I  have  no  knowledge, 
and  which  you  do  not  feel  inclined  to  mention." 

"  Shall  I  make  it  known  to  you,  madame  ?  "  said  the  king, 
with  severity.  "  He  carried  on  an  imprudent  and  treason- 
able correspondence,  and  if  tried  by  court-martial,  would  be 
found  guilty  of  high  treason.  But,  in  consideration  of  his 
youth,  and  several  extenuating  circumstances  with  which 
I  alone  am  acquainted,  I  will  be  lenient  with  him.  Be  satis- 
fied with  this  assurance :  in  a  year  your  son  will  be  free ;  and 
when  solitude  has  brought  him  to  reflection,  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  crime,  when  he  is  more  humble  and  wiser, 
I  will  again  be  a  gracious  king  to  him.*  Write  this  to  your 
son,  madame,  and  receive  my  best  wishes  for  yourself." 

"  Oh,  sire,  you  do  not  yet  know  all.  I  have  another  con- 
fession to  make,  and — " 

A  light  knock  at  the  door  communicating  with  the  ante- 
chamber interrupted  her,  and  a  voice  from  the  outside  ex- 
claimed :  "  Sire,  a  courier  with  important  dispatches  from 
Silesia." 

"  Retire  to  the  adjoining  apartment,  and  wait  there,"  said 
the  king,  turning  to  his  sister. 

Both  ladies  left  the  room. 

"  Dispatches  from  Silesia,"  whispered  the  countess. 
"  The  king  will  now  learn  all,  I  fear." 

"  Well,  if  he  does,"  said  the  princess,  almost  defiantly, 
"  we  are  here  to  save  him,  and  we  will  save  him." 

A  short  time  elapsed;  then  the  door  was  violently  thrown 
open,  and  the  king  appeared  on  the  threshold,  his  eyes  flash- 
ing with  anger. 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  pointing  to  the  papers  which  he  held 

in  his  hand,  "  from  these  papers  I  have  undoubtedly  learned 

what  it  was  your  intention  to  have  communicated  to  me. 

Your  son  has  attempted  to  escape  from  prison  like  a  cowardly 

*  Trenck's  Memoira,  i.,  82. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AI^D  HIS  FRIENDS.    309 

criminal,  a  malefactor  weighed  down  with  guilt.  In  this  at- 
tempt he  has  killed  and  wounded  soldiers,  disarmed  the 
governor  of  the  fortress,  and,  in  his  insolent  frenzy,  has  en- 
deavored to  scale  the  palisades  in  broad  daylight.  Madame, 
nothing  but  the  consciousness  of  his  own  guilt  could  have 
induced  him  to  attempt  so  daring  a  flighjt,  and  he  must  have 
had  criminal  accomplices  who  advised  him  to  this  stej) — ac- 
complices who  bribed  the  sentinel  on  duty  before  his  door; 
who  secretly  conveyed  money  to  him,  and  held  horses  in 
readiness  for  his  flight.  Woe  to  them  if  I  should  ever  dis- 
cover the  criminals  who  treasonably  induced  my  soldiers  and 
officers  to  break  their  oath  of  fidelity !  " 

"  I,  your  majesty,  I  was  this  criminal,"  said  the  countess. 
"  A  mother  may  well  dare  to  achieve  the  freedom  of  her  son 
at  any  price.  It  is  her  privilege  to  defend  him  with  any 
weapon.  I  bribed  the  soldiers,  placed  the  horses  in  readi- 
ness, and  conveyed  money  to  my  son.  It  was  Trenck's 
mother  who  endeavored  to  liberate  him." 

"  And  you  have  only  brought  him  to  greater,  to  more 
hopeless  misery!  For  now,  madame,  there  can  be  no  mercy. 
The  fugitive,  the  deserter,  has  forfeited  the  favor  of  his 
king.  Shame,  misery,  and  perpetual  captivity  will  hence- 
forth be  his  portion.  This  is  my  determination.  Hope  for 
no  mercy.  The  articles  of  war  condemn  the  deserter  to 
death.  I  will  give  him  his  life,  but  freedom  I  cannot  give 
him,  for  I  now  know  that  he  would  abuse  it.     Farewell." 

"  Mercy !  mercy  for  my  son !  "  sobbed  the  countess.  "  He 
is  so  young !  he  has  a  long  life  before  him." 

"  A  life  of  remorse  and  repentance,"  said  the  king  with 
severity.     "  I  will  accord  him  no  other.     Go !  " 

He  was  on  the  point  of  reentering  the  library.  A  hand 
was  laid  on  his  shoulder ;  he  turned  and  saw  the  pale  counte- 
nance of  his  sister. 

"  My  brother,"  said  the  princess,  in  a  firm  voice,  "  permit 
me  to  speak  with  you  alone  for  a  moment.  Proceed,  I  will 
follow  you." 

Her  bearing  was  proud,  almost  dictatorial.  Her  sternly 
tranquil  manner,  her  clear  and  earnest  brow,  showed  plainly 
that  she  had  formed  an  heroic  determination.  She  was  no 
longer  the  young  girl,  timidly  praying  for  her  lover;  she  wa3 


310  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

the  fearless  woman,  determined  to  defend  him,  or  die  for 
him.  The  king  read  this  in  her  countenance,  it  was  plainly 
indicated  in  her  royal  bearing;  and  with  the  reverence  and 
consideration  which  great  spirits  ever  accord  to  misfortune, 
he  did  homage  to  this  woman  toward  whom  he  was  so  strong- 
ly drawn  by  sjTnpathy  and  pity. 

"  Come,  my  sister,  come,"  said  he,  offering  his  hand. 

Amelia  did  not  take  his  hand ;  by  his  side  she  walked  into 
the  library,  and  softly  locked  the  door  behind  her.  One  mo- 
ment she  rested  against  the  wall,  as  if  to  gather  strength. 
The  king  hastily  crossed  the  room,  and  looked  out  at  the 
window.  Hearing  the  rustle  of  her  dress  behind  him,  he 
turned  and  advanced  towarcf  the  princess.  She  regarded 
him  fixedly  with  cold  and  tearless  eyes. 

"  Is  it  sufficient  if  I  promise  never  to  see  him  again  ? " 
said  she. 

"  The  promise  is  superfluous,  for  I  will  make  a  future 
meeting  impossible." 

She  inclined  her  head  slightly,  as  if  this  answer  had  been 
expected. 

"  Is  it  enough  if  I  swear  never  to  write  to  him  again, 
nevermore  to  give  him  a  token  of  my  love  ? " 

"  I  would  not  believe  this  oath.  If  I  set  him  at  liberty 
he  would  compromise  you  and  your  family,  by  boasting  of  a 
love  which  yielded  to  circumstances  and-necessity  only,  and 
not  to  reason  and  indifference.  I  will  make  you  no  re- 
proaches at  present,  for  I  think  your  conscience  is  doing  that 
for  me.  But  this  much  I  will  say:  I  will  not  set  him  at 
liberty  until  he  no  longer  believes  in  your  love." 
,  "  Will  you  liberate  him  if  I  rob  him  of  this  belief  ?  If 
I  hurl  the  broken  bond  of  my  promised  faith  in  his  face  ?  If 
I  tell  him  that  fear  and  cowardice  have  extinguished  my 
love,  and  that  I  bid  him  farewell  forever  ?  " 

"  Write  him  this,  and  I  promise  you  that  he  shall  be  free 
in  a  few  months;  but,  understand  me  well,  free  to  go  where 
he  will,  but  banished  from  my  kingdom." 

"  Shall  I  write  at  once  ? "  said  she  with  an  expression  of 
utter  indifference,  and  with  icy  tranquillity. 

"Write;  you  will  find  all  that  is  necessary  on  my  es- 
critoire." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    311 

She  walked  composedly  to  the  table  and  seated  herself. 
When  she  commenced  writing,  a  deathly  pallor  came  over  her 
face;  her  breath  came  and  went  hurriedly  and  painfully. 
The  king  stood  near,  regarding  her  with  an  expression  of 
deep  solicitude. 

"  Have  you  finished  ? "  said  he,  as  she  pushed  the  paper 
aside  on  which  she  had  been  writing. 

"  No,"  said  she  calmly,  "  it  was  only  a  tear  that  had  fallen 
on  the  paper.  I  must  begin  again."  And  with  perfect  com- 
posure she  took  another  sheet  of  paper,  and  began  writing 
anew. 

The  king  turned  away  with  a  sigh.  He  felt  that  if  he 
longer  regarded  this  pale,  resigned  face,  he  would  lose  sight 
of  reason  and  duty,  and  restore  to  her  her  lover.  He  again 
advanced  to  the  window,  and  looked  thoughtfully  out  at  the 
sky.  "  Is  it  possible  ?  can  it  be  ?  "  he  asked  himself.  "  May 
I  forget  my  duties  as  head  of  my  family,  and  only  remember 
that  she  is  my  sister,  and  that  she  is  suffering  and  weeping? 
Must  we  then  all  pay  for  this  empty  grandeur,  this  frippery 
•  of  earthly  magnificence,  with  our  heart's  blood  and  our  best 
hopes  ?  And  if  I  now  deprive  her  of  her  dreams  of  happiness, 
what  compensation  can  I  offer?  With  what  can  I  replace 
her  hopes,  her  love,  the  happiness  of  her  youth  ?  At  the  best, 
with  a  little  earthly  splendor,  with  the  purple  and  the  crown, 
and  eventually,  perhaps,  with  my  love.  Yes,  I  will  love  her 
truly  and  cordially;  she  shall  forgive  the  brother  for  the 
king's  harshness;  she  shall — "    <» 

"  I  have  finished,"  said  the  sad  voice  of  his  sister. 

The  king  turned  from  the  window;  Amelia  stood  at  the 
escritoire,  holding  the  paper  on  which  she  had  been  writing 
in  one  hand,  and  sustaining  herself  by  the  table  with  the 
other. 

"  Eead  what  you  have  written,"  said  the  king,  approach- 
ing her. 

The  princess  bowed  her  head  and  read : 

"  I  pity  you,  but  your  misfortune  is  irremediable ;  and  I 
cannot  and  will  not  attempt  to  alleviate  it,  for  fear  of  com- 
promising myself.  This  is,  therefore,  my  last  letter — ^I  can 
risk  nothing  more  for  you.  Do  not  attempt  to  write  to  me, 
for  I  should  return  your  letter  unopened.     Our  separation 


312  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCl;  OR, 

must  be  forever,  but  I  will  always  remain  your  friend;  and 
if  I  can  ever  serve  you  hereafter,  I  will  do  so  gladly.  Fare- 
well, unhappy  friend,  you  deserve  a  better  fate."  * 

"  That  is  all  ?  "  said  the  king,  as  his  sister  ceased  read- 
ing. 

"  That  is  all,  sire." 

"  And  you  imagine  that  he  will  no  longer  believe  in  your 
love,  when  he  receives  this  letter  ? "  said  the  king,  with  a 
sad  smile. 

"  I  am  sure  he  will  not,  for  I  tell  him  in  this  letter  that 
I  will  risk  nothing  more  for  him;  that  I  will  not  even  at- 
tempt to  alleviate  his  misery.  Only  when  one  is  cowardly 
enough  to  sacrifice  love  to  selfish  fears,  could  one  do  this.  I 
shall  have  purchased  his  liberty  with  his  contempt." 

"  What  would  you  have  written  if  you  had  been  permitted 
to  follow  the  promptings  of  your  heart  ?  " 

A  rosy  hue  flitted  over  her  countenance,  and  love 
beamed  in  her  eyes.  "  I  would  have  written,  *  Believe  in  me, 
trust  in  me !  For  henceforth  the  one  aim  of  my  life  will  be 
to  liberate  you.  Let  me  die  when  I  have  attained  this  aim, 
but  die  in  the  consciousness  of  having  saved  you,  and  of  hav- 
ing been  true  to  my  love.'  " 

"  You  would  have  written  that  ?  " 

"  I  would  have  written  that,"  said  she,  proudly  and  joy- 
fully. "  And  the  truth  of  that  letter  he  would  not  have 
doubted." 

"  Oh,  woman's  heart ! "  inexhaustible  source  of  love  and 
devotion ! "  murmured  the  king,  turning  away  to  conceal 
his  emotion  from  his  sister. 

"  Is  this  letter  sufficient  ? "  demanded  the  princess. 
"Shall  Trenckbe  free?" 

"  I  have  promised  it,  and  will  keep  my  word.  Fold  the 
letter  and  direct  it.     It  shall  be  forwarded  at  once." 

"  And  when  will  he  be  free  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  set  him  at  liberty  immediately.  It  woujd  be 
setting  my  officers  a  bad  example.  But  in  three  months  he 
shall  be  free." 

"  In  three  months,  then.    Here  is  the  letter,  sire." 

The  king  took  the  letter  and  placed  it  in  his  bosom. 
*  Trenck's  Memoirs,  L,  86. 


FREDERICK    THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    313 

And  now,  my  sister,  come  to  my  heart,"  said  he,  holding 
out  his  arms.  "  The  king  was  angry  with  you,  the  brother 
will  weep  with  you.  Come,  Amelia,  come  to  your  brother's 
heart." 

Amelia  did  not  throw  herself  in  his  arms ;  she  stood  still, 
and  seemed  not  to  have  heard,  not  to  have  understood  his 
words. 

"  I  pray  that  your  majesty  will  allow  me  to  retire,"  said 
she.  "  I  think  we  have  finished — we  have  to  other  business 
to  transact." 

"  Oh !  my  sister,"  said  Frederick,  mournfully,  "  think  of 
what  you  are  doing;  do  not  harden  your  heart  against  me. 
Believe  me,  I  suffer  with  you ;  and  if  the  only  question  were 
the  sacrifice  of  my  personal  wishes,  I  would  gladly  yield. 
But  I  must  consider  my  ancestors,  the  history  of  my  house, 
and  the  prejudices  of  the  world.  Amelia,  I  cannot,  I  dare 
not  do  otherwise.  Forgive  me,  my  sister.  And  now,  once 
more,  let  us  hold  firmly  to  each  other  in  love  and  trust.  Let 
me  fold  you  to  my  heart." 

He  advanced  and  extended  his  hand,  but  his  sister  slowly 
recoiled. 

"  Allow  me  to  remind  your  majesty  that  a  poor  unhappy 
woman  is  awaiting  a  word  of  consolation  in  the  next  room, 
and  that  this  woman  is  Trenck's  mother.  She,  at  least,  will 
be  happy  when  I  inform  her  that  her  son  will  soon  be  free. 
Permit  me,  therefore,  sire,  to  take  my  leave,  and  bear  her 
this  good  news." 

She  bowed  formally  and  profoundly,  and  walked  slowly 
across  the  room.  The  king  no  longer  endeavored  to  hold  her 
back.  He  followed  her  with  a  mournful,  questioning  glance, 
still  hoping  that  she  would  turn  and  seek  a  reconciliation. 
She  reached  the  door,  now  she  turned.  The  king  stepped 
forward  rapidly,  but  Princess  Amelia  bowed  ceremoniously 
and  disappeared. 

"  Lost !  I  have  lost  her,"  sighed  the  king.  "  Oh,  my  God ! 
must  I  then  part  from  all  that  I  love  ?  Was  it  not  enough  to 
lose  my  friends  by  death?  will  cruel  fate  also  rob  me  of  a 
loved  and  living  sister?  Ah!  I  am  a  poor,  a  wretched  man, 
and  yet  they  call  me  a  king." 

Frederick  slowly  seated  himself,  and  covered  his  face 


314  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OB, 

with  his  hands.  He  remained  in  this  position  for  a  long 
time,  his  sighs  being  the  only  interruption  to  the  silence 
which  reigned  in  the  apartment. 

"  Work !  I  will  work,"  said  he  proudly.  "  This  is  at  least 
a  consolation,  and  teaches  forgetfulness." 

He  walked  hurriedly  to  his  escritoire,  seated  himself,  and 
regarded  the  manuscripts  and  papers  which  lay  before  him. 
He  took  up  one  of  the  manuscripts  and  began  to  read,  but 
with  an  impatient  gesture  he  soon  laid  it  aside. 

"  The  letters  swim  before  my  eyes  in  inextricable  confu- 
sion.   My  God,  how  hard  it  is  to  do  one's  duty ! " 

He  rested  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  was  lost  in  thought 
for  a  long  time.  Gradually  his  expression  brightened,  and  a 
wondrous  light  beamed  in  his  eyes, 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  with  a  smile,  "  yes,  so  it  shall  be.  I  have 
just  lost  a  much-loved  sister.  Well,  it  is  customary  to  erect 
a  monument  in  memory  of  those  we  love.  Poor,  lost  sister, 
I  will  erect  a  monument  to  your  memory.  The  king  has 
been  compelled  to  make  his  sister  unhappj',  and  for  this  he 
will  endeavor  to  make  his  people  happy.  And  if  there  is  no 
law  to  which  a  princess  can  appeal  against  the  king,  there 
shall  at  least  be  laws  for  all  my  subjects,  which  protect  them, 
and  are  in  strict  accordance  with  reason,  with  justice,  and 
the  godly  principle  of  equality.  Yes,  I  will  give  my  people  a 
new  code  of  laws.*  This,  Amelia,  shall  be  the  monument 
which  I  will  erect  to  you  in  my  heart.  In  this  very  hour  I 
will  write  to  Cocceji,  and  request  him  to  sketch  the  outlines 
of  this  new  code  of  laws." 

The  king  seized  his  i>en  and  commenced  writing.  "  The 
judges,"  said  he,  hastily  penning  his  words,  "  the  judges  must 
administer  equal  and  impartial  justice  to  all  without  re- 
spect to  rank  or  wealth,  as  they  expect  to  answer  for  the  same 
before  the  righteous  judgment-seat  of  God,  and  in  order  that 
the  sighs  of  the  widows  and  orphans,  and  of  all  that  are  op- 
pressed, may  not  be  visited  upon  themselves  and  their  chil- 
dren. K^o  rescripts,  although  issued  "from  this  cabinet,  shall 
be  deemed  worthy  of  the  slightest  consideration,  if  they 
contain  aught  manifestly  incompatible  with  equity,  or  if  the 
strict  course  of  justice  is  thereby  hindered  or  interrupted; 
•  R6denb6ck,  Diary,  p.  187. 


FEEDEKICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    ^315 

but  the  judges  shall  proceed  according  to  the  dictates  of  duty 
and  conscience." 

The  king  continued  writing,  his  countenance  becoming 
more  and  more  radiant  with  pleasure,  while  his  pen  flew  over 
the  paper.  He  was  so  completely  occupied  with  his  thoughts 
that  he  did  not  hear  the  door  open  behind  him,  and  did  not 
percei\^  the  merry  and  intelligent  face  of  his  favorite.  Gen- 
eral Rothenberg,  looking  in. 

The  king  wrote  on.  Rothenberg  stooped  and  placed 
something  which  he  held  in  his  arms  on  the  floor.  He  looked 
over  toward  the  king,  and  then  at  the  graceful  little  grey- 
hound which  stood  quietly  before  him.  This  was  no  other 
than  the  favorite  dog  of  the  king,  which  had  been  lost  and  a 
captive.* 

The  little  Biche  stood  still  for  a  moment,  looking  around 
intelligently,  and  then  ran  lightly  across  the  apartment, 
sprang  upon  the  table  and  laid  its  forepaw  on  the  king's 
neck. 

"  Biche,  my  faithful  little  friend,  is  it  you  ? "  said  Fred- 
erick, throwing  his  pen  aside  and  taking  the  little  animal  in 
his  arms.  Biche  began  to  bark  with  delight,  nestle  closely  to 
her  master,  and  look  lovingly  at  him  with  her  bright  little 
eyes.  And  the  king — he  inclined  his  face  on  the  head  of  his 
faithful  little  friend,  and  tears  ran  slowly  down  his  cheeks. f 

"You  have  not  forgotten  me,  my  little  Biche?  Ah,  if 
men  were  true,  and  loved  me  as  you  do,  my  faithful  little 
dog,  I  should  be  a  rich,  a  happy  king !  " 

General  Rothenberg  still  stood  at  the  half-opened  door. 
"  Sire,  said  he,  "  is  it  only  Biche  who  has  the  grandes  and 
petites  entrees,  or  have  I  also  ?  " 

"  Ah,  it  was  then  you  who  brought  Biche  ? "  said  Fred- 
erick, beckoning  to  the  general  to  approach. 

"  Yes,  sire,  it  was  I,  but  I  almost  regret  having  done  so, 
for  I  perceive  that  Biche  i8  a  dangerous  rival,  and  I  am 
jealous  of  her." 

*  The  greyhound  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Austrians  at  the  battle 
of  Sohr,  and  had  been  presented  bv  General  Nudasti  to  his  wife  as  a  trophy. 
When  this  lady  learned  that  Biche  had  been  a  pet  of  the  king,  she  at  first 
refused  to  give  it  up :  and  only  after  several  demands,  and  with"  much  diffi- 
culty, could  she  be  induced  to  return  it.    K5denbeck,  Diarv.  p.  12fi. 

t  Muohler,  "  Frederick  tlie  Great,"  p.  850.    Rodenbecki  Diary,  p.  187. 


316  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  You  are  my  best  gentleman-friend,  and  Biche  is  my  best 
lady-friend,"  said  the  king,  laughing.  "  I  shall  never  forget 
that  Biche  on  one  occasion  might  have  discovered  me  to  the 
Austrians,  and  did  not  betray  me,  as  thousands  of  men  would 
have  done  in  her  place.  Had  she  barked  at  the  time  when 
I  had  concealed  myself  under  the  bridge,  while  the  regiment 
of  pandours  was  passing  over,  I  should  have  been  lost.  But 
she  conquered  herself.  From  love  to  me  she  renounced  her 
instincts,  and  was  silent.  She  nestled  close  to  my  side,  re- 
garding me  with  her  discreet  little  eyes,  and  licking  my  hand 
lovingly.  Ah,  my  friend,  dogs  are  better  and  truer  than 
mankind,  and  the  so-called  images  of  God  could  learn  a  great 
deal  from  them !  " 


CHAPTEE   XIII. 

THE  FLIGHT. 

Two  months  had  passed  since  Trenck's  last  attempted 
escape ;  two  months  of  anguish,  of  despair.  But  he  was  not 
depressed,  not  hopeless;  he  had  one  great  aim  before  his 
eyes — to  be  free,  to  escape  from  this  prison.  The  com- 
mandant had  just  assured  him  he  would  never  leave  it  alive. 

This  frightful  picture  of  a  life-long  imprisonment  did  not 
terrify  him,  did  not  agitate  a  nerve  or  relax  a  muscle.  He 
felt  his  blood  bounding  in  fiery  streams  through  his  veins. 
With  a  merry  laugh  and  sparkling  eye  he  declared  that  no 
man  could  be  imprisoned  during  his  whole  life  who  felt 
himself  strong  enough  to  achieve  his  freedom. 

"  I  have  strength  and  endurance  like  Atlas.  I  can  bear 
the  world  on  my  shoulders,  and  shall  I  never  be  able  to  burst 
these  doors  and  gates,  to  surmount  these  miserable  fortress 
Walls  which  separate  me  from  liberty,  the  world  of  action, 
')he  golden  sunshine?  No,  no,  before  the  close  of  this  year 
i!  shall  be  free.  Yes,  free!  free  to  fly  to  her  and  give  her 
back  this  letter,  and  ask  her  if  she  did  truly  write  it?  if 
*;hese  cold  words  came  from  her  heart?  No,  some  one  has 
Aared  to  imitate  her  writing,  and  thus  deprive  j^e  gi  tjj? 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     317 

only  ray  of  sunshine  which  enters  my  dark  prison.  I  must 
be  free  in  order  to  know  this.  I  will  believe  in  nothing 
which  I  do  not  see  written  in  her  beautiful  face ;  only  when 
her  lips  speak  these  fearful  words,  will  I  believe  them.  I 
must  be  free,  and  until  then  I  must  forget  all  other  things, 
even  this  terrible  letter.  My  thoughts,  my  eyes,  my  heart, 
my  soul,  must  have  but  one  aim — my  liberty !  " 

Alas!  the  year  drew  near  its  close,  and  the  goal  was  not 
reached;  indeed,  the  difficulties  were  greatly  increased.  The 
commandant.  Von  Fouquet,  had  just  received  stern  orders 
from  Berlin;  the  watch  had  been  doubled,  and  the  officers 
in  the  citadel  had  been  peremptorily  forbidden  to  enter  the 
cell  of  the  prisoner,  or  in  any  way  to  show  him  kindness  or 
attention. 

The  officers  loved  the  young  and  cheerful  prisoner;  by 
his  fresh  and  hopeful  spirit,  his  gay  laugh  and  merry  jest,  he 
had  broken  up  the  everlasting  monotony  of  their  garrison- 
life;  by  his  powerful  intellect  and  rich  fancy  he  had,  in 
some  degree,  dissipated  their  weariness  and  stupidity.  '  They 
felt  pity  for  his  youth,  his  beauty,  his  geniality,  his  energetic 
self-confidence;  his  bold  courage  imposed  upon  them,  and 
they  were  watching  curiously  and  anxiously  to  see  the  finale 
of  this  contest  between  the  poor,  powerless,  imprisoned 
youth,  and  the  haughty,  stern  commander,  who  had  sworn  to 
Trenck  that  he  should  not  succeed  in  making  even  an  at- 
tempt to  escape,  to  which  Trenck  had  laughingly  replied : 

"  I  will  not  only  make  an  attempt  to  escape,  I  will  fly  in 
defiance  of  all  guards,  and  all  fortress  walls,  and  all  com- 
mandants. I  inhale  already  the  breath  of  liberty  which  is 
wafted  through  my  prison.  Do  you  not  see  how  the  God- 
dess of  Liberty,  with  her  enchanting  smile,  stands  at  the  head 
of  my  wretched  bed,  sings  her  sweet  evening  songs  to  the 
poor  prisoner,  and  wakes  him  in  the  early  morning  with  the 
sound  of  trumpets?  Oh,  sir  commandant,  Liberty  loves  me, 
and  soon  will  she  take  me  like  a  bride  in  her  fair  arms,  and 
bear  me  off  to  freedom !  " 

The  commandant  had  doubled  the  guard,  and  forbidden 
the  officers,  under  heavy  penalty,  to  have  any  intercourse 
with  Trenck.  Formerly,  the  officers  who  had  kept  watch  over 
Trenck,  had  been  allowed  to  enter,  to  remain  and  eat  with 


818  BEBLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCl;  OR, 

him;  now  the  door  was  closed  against  them,  the  major  kept 
the  key,  and  Trenck's  food  was  handed  him  through  the  win- 
dow* But  this  window  was  large,  and  the  officer  on  guard 
could  put  his  head  in  and  chat  awhile  with  the  prisoner. 
The  major  had  the  principal  key,  but  the  officer  had  a  night- 
key,  and,  by  this  means,  entered  often  in  the  evenings  and 
passed  a  few  hours  with  the  prisoner,  listening  with  aston- 
ishment to  his  plans  of  escape,  and  his  dreams  of  a  happy 
future. 

But  they  did  not  all  come  to  speak  of  indifferent  things, 
and  to  be  cheered  and  brightened  by  his  gay  humor.  There 
were  some  who  truly  loved  him,  and  wished  to  give  him  coun- 
sel and  aid.  One  came  because  he  had  promised  his  beloved 
mistress,  his  bride,  to  liberate  Trenek,  cost  what  it  would. 
This  was  Lieutenant  Schnell,  the  bridegroom  of  Amelia's 
maid  of  honor.  One  day,  thanks  to  the  night-key,  he  en- 
tered Trenck's  cell. 

"I  will  stand  by  you,  and  assist  you  to  escape.  More 
than  that,  I  will  fly  with  you.  The  commandant,  Fouquet, 
hates  me — he  says  I  know  too  much  for  an  officer;  that  I 
do  not  confine  myself  to  my  military  duties,  but  love  books, 
and  art,  and  science.  He  has  often  railed  at  me,  and  I 
have  twice  demanded  my  dismissal,  which  he  refused,  and 
threatened  me  with  arrest  if  I  should  again  demand  it.  Like 
yourself,  I  am  not  free,  and,  like  you,  I  wish  to  fly  from 
bondage.  And  now  let  us  consult  together,  and  arrange  our 
plan  of  escape." 

"Yes,"  said  Trenek,  with  a  glowing  countenance,  and 
embracing  his  new-found  friend,  "  we  will  be  unconquerable. 
Like  Briareus,  we  will  have  a  hundred  arms  and  a  hundred 
lieads.  When  two  young  and  powerful  men  unite  their  wills, 
nothing  can  restrain  them- — ^nothing  withstand  them.  Let 
us  make  our  arrangements." 

The  plan  of  escape-was  marked  out,  and  was,  indeed,  ripe 
for  action.  On  the  last  day  of  the  year.  Lieutenant  Schnell 
was  to  be  Trenck's  night-guard,  and  then  they  would  escape. 
The  dark  shadows  of  night  would  assist  them.  Horses  were 
already  engaged.  There  was  gold  to  bribe  the  guard,  and 
there  were  loaded  pistols  for  those  who  could  not  be  tempted. 
*  Trenck's  Memoirs. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    319 

These  had  beeu  alreadj'  smuggled  into  Trenck's  cell,  and  con- 
cealed in  the  ashes  of  the  fireplace. 

And  now  it  was  Christmas  eve.  This  was  a  grand  festal 
day  even  for  all  the  officers  of  the  citadel.  With  the  ex- 
ception of  the  night-watch,  they  were  all  invited  to  dine  with 
the  commandant.  A  day  of  joy  and  rejoicing  to  all  but  the 
poor  prisoner,  who  sat  solitary  in  his  cell,  and  recalled,  with 
a  sad  heart,  the  happy  days  of  his  childhood.  "  The  holy 
evening  "  had  been  to  him  a  golden  book  of  promise,  and  a 
munificent  cornucopia  of  happiness  and  peace. 

The  door  of  his  cell  was  hastily  opened,  and  Schnell 
rushed  in. 

"  Comrade,  we  are  betrayed ! "  said  he  breathlessly. 
"  Our  plan  of  flight  has  been  discovered.  The  adjutant  of 
the  commander  has  just  secretly  informed  me  that  when  the 
guard  is  changed  I  am  to  be  arrested.  You  see,  then,  we  are 
lost,  unless  we  adopt  some  rash  and  energetic  resolution." 

"  We  will  fly  before  the  hour  of  your  arrest,"  said  Trefick, 
gayly. 

"  If  you  think  that  possible,  so  be  it  I  "  said  SchnelL  He 
drew  a  sword  from  under  his  mantle,  and  handed  it  to 
Trenck.  "  Swear  to  me  upon  this  sword,  that  come  what 
may>  you  will  never  allow  me  to  fall  alive  into  the  hands  of 
my  enemies." 

"  I  swear  it,  so  truly  as  God  will  help  me !  And  now. 
Schnell,  take  the  same  oath." 

"  I  swear  it !  And  now  friend,  one  last  grasp  of  the  hand, 
and  then  forward.  May  God  be  with  us!  Hide  your  sword 
under  your  coat.  Let  us  assume  an  indifferent  and  careless 
expression — come  !  " 

Arm  in  arm,  the  two  young  men  left  the  prison  door. 
They  appeared  calm  and  cheerful;  each  one  kept  a  hand  in 
his  bosom,  and  this  hand  held  a  loaded  pistol. 

The  guard  saluted  the  officer  of  the  night-watch,  who 
passed  by  him  in  full  uniform.  In  passing,  he  said :  "  I  am 
conducting  the  prisoner  to  the  officers'  room.  Remain  here 
— I  will  return  quickly." 

Slowly,  quietly,  they  passed  down  the  whole  length  of 
the  corridor;  they  reached  the  officer's  room,  and  opened  the 
door,    The  guard  walked  with  measured  step  slowly  before 


320     »  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

the  open  door  of  Trenck's  cell,  suspecting  nothing.  The 
door  closed  behind  the  fugitives — the  first  step  toward  lib- 
erty was  taken, 

"And  now,  quickly  onward  to  the  side  door.  When  we 
have  passed  the  sentry-box,  we  will  be  at  the  outer  works. 
We  must  spring  over  the  palisades,  and  woe  to  the  obstacle 
that  lies  in  our  path ! — advance !  forward !  " 

They  reached  the  wall,  they  greeted  fair  Freedom  with 
golden  smiles,  but  turning  a  corner,  they  stood  suddenly  be- 
fore the  major  and  his  adjutant ! 

A  cry  of  horror  burst  from  Schnell's  lips.  With  one  bold 
leap,  he  sprang  upon  the  breastworks,  and  jumped  below. 
With  a  wild  shout  of  joy  Trenck  followed  him.  His  soul 
bounded  with  rapture  and  gladness.  He  has  mounted  the 
wall,  and  what  he  finds  below  will  be  liberty  in  death,  or 
liberty  in  life. 

He  lives !  He  stretches  himself  after  his  wondrous  leap, 
and  he  is  not  injured — he  recovers  strength  and  presence  of 
mind  quickly. 

But  where  is  his  friend?  where  is  Schnell?^  There — 
there;  he  lies  upon  the  ground,  with  a  dislocated  ankle,  im- 
possible to  stand — impossible  to  move. 

"  Remember  your  oath,  friend — kill  me !  I  can  go  no 
farther.  Here  is  my  sword — thrust  it  into  my  bosom,  and 
fly  for  your  life !  " 

Trenck  laughed  gayly,  took  him  in  his  arms  as  lovingly 
and  tenderly  as  a  mother.  "  Swing  yourself  on  my  back, 
friend,  and  clasp  your  arms  about  my  neck,  and  hold  fast. 
We  will  run  a  race  with  the  reindeer." 

"  Trenck !  Trenck !  kill  me.  Leave  me  here,  and  hasten 
on.    Escape  is  impossible  with  such  a  burden." 

"  You  are  as  light  as  a  feather,  and  I  will  die  with  you 
rather  than  leave  you." 

Onward !  onward  I  the  sun  sets  and  a  heavy  fog  rises  sud- 
denly from  out  of  the  earth. 

"  Trenck,  Trenck,  do  you  not  hear  the  alarm-guns  thun- 
dering from  the  citadel  ?     Our  pursuers  are  af fer  us." 

"I  hear  the  cannon,"  said  Trenck,  hastening  on.  "We 
have  a  half  hour's  start." 

"  A  half  hour  will  not  suffig?.    J^To  on?  lifts  ever  escaped 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    321 

from  Glatz  who  did  not  have  two  hours'  advance  of  pursuit. 
Leave  me,  Trenek,  and  save  yourself." 

"  I  will  not  leave  you.  I  would  rather  die  with  you.  Let 
us  rest  a  moment,  and  gather  breath." 

Gently,  carefully,  he  laid  his  friend  upon  the  ground. 
Schnell  suppressed  his  cries  of  pain,  and  Trenek  restrained 
his  panting  breath — they  rested  and  listened.  The  white, 
soft  mist  settled  more  thickly  around  them.  The  citadel  and 
the  town  was  entirely  hidden  from  view. 

"  God  is  with  us,"  said  Trenek.  "  He  covers  us  with  an 
impenetrable  veil,  afid  conceals  us  from  our  enemies." 

"  God  is  against  us — our  flight  was  too  soon  discovered. 
Already  the  whole  border  is  alarmed.  Listen  to  the  signals 
in  every  village.  The  three  shots  from  the  citadel  have  an- 
nounced that  a  prisoner  has  escaped.  The  commanding 
ofiicers  are  now  flying  from  point  to  point,  to  see  if  the  peas- 
ants are  doing  duty,  and  if  every  post  is  strictly  guarded. 
The  cordon  is  alarmed;  the  whole  Bohemian  boundary  has 
been  signalled.     It  is  too  late — we  caniiot  reach  the  border." 

"  We  will  not  go  then,  friend,  in  the  direction  our  ene- 
mies expect  us,"  said  Trenek,  merrily.  "  They  saw  us  run- 
ning toward  the  Bohemian  boundary,  and  they  will  follow  in 
that  direction  through  night  and  fog.  We  will  fly  where 
they  are  not  seeking  us — we  will  cross  the  Reise.  Do  you 
see  there  a  line  of  silver  shimmering  through  the  fog,  and 
advancing  to  meet  us  ?  Spring  upon  my  back,  Schnell.  We 
must  cross  the  Reise !  " 

"  I  cannot,  Trenek,  I  suffer  agony  with  my  foot.  It  is 
impossible  for  me  to  swim." 

"  I  can  swim  for  both." 

He  knelt  down,  took  his  friend  upon  his  back,  and  ran 
with  him  to  the  river.  And  now  they  stood  upon  the  shore. 
Solemnly,  drearily,  the  waves  dashed  over  their  feet,  sweep- 
ing onward  large  blocks  of  ice  which  obstructed  the  current. 

"  Is  the  river  deep,  comrade  ?  " 

"  In  the  middle  of  the  stream,  deep  enough  to  cover  a 
giant  like  yourself." 

"  Onward,  then !  When  I  can  no  longer  walk,  I  can  swim. 
Hold  fast,  Schnell !  " 

Onward,  in  the  dark,  ice-cold  water,  bravely  onward,  with 


322  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

his  friend  upon  his  back!  Higher  and  higher  rose  the 
waves!     iN^ow  they  reached  his  shoulder! 

"  Hold  fast  to  my  hair,  Schnell,  we  must  swim !  " 

With  herculean  strength  he  swam  through  the  dark, 
wild  waters,  and  dashed  the  ice-blocks  which  nished  against 
him  from  his  path. 

Now  they  have  reached  the  other  shore.  Xot  yet  safe — 
but  safe  from  immediate  danger.  The  blessed  night  con- 
ceals their  course,  and  their  pursuers  seek  them  on  the  other 
shore. 

Suddenly  the  fog  is  dispersed ;  a  roug^  bleak  wind  freezes 
the  moisture  in  the  atmosphere,  and  the  moon  rose  in  cloud- 
less majesty  in  the  heavens.  It  was  a  cold,  clear  December 
night,  and  the  wet  clothes  of  the  fugitives  were  frozen  stiff, 
like  a  harness,  upon  them.  Trenck  felt  neither  cold  nor 
stiff ;  he  carried  his  friend  upon  his  shoulders,  and  that  kept 
him  warm ;  he  walked  so  rapidly,  his  limbs  could  not  stiffen. 

Onward,  ever  onward  to  the  mountains!  They  reached 
the  first  hill,  luider  whose  protecting  shadows  they  sank 
down  to  rest,  and  take  counsel  together. 

"  Trenck,  I  suffer  great  agony ;  I  implore  you  to  leave 
me  here  and  save  yourself.  In  a  few  hours  you  can  pass  the 
border.     Leave  me,  then,  and  save  yourself !  " 

"  I  will  never  desert  a  friend  in  necessity.  Come,  I  am 
refreshed." 

He  took  up  his  comrade  and  pressed  on.  The  moon  had 
concealed  herself  behind  the  clouds;  the  cold,  cutting  winds 
howled  through  the  mountains.  Stooping,  Trenck  waded  on 
through  the  snow.  He  was  scarcely  able  now  to  hold  himself 
erect.  Hope  inspired  him  with  strength  and  courage — they 
had  wandered  far,  they  must  soon  reach  the  border. 

Day  broke !  the  pale  rays  of  the  December  sun  melted  the 
mountain  vapors  into  morning.  The  two  comrades  were 
encamped  upon  the  snow,  exhausted  with  their  long  march, 
hopefully  peering  here  and  there  after  the  Bohemian 
boundary. 

"Great  God!  what  is  that?  Are  not  those  the  towers  of 
Glatz?  and  that  dark  spectre  which  raises  itself  so  threaten- 
ingly against  the  horizon,  is  not  that  the  citadel  ? " 

And  so  it  was.     The  poor  fugitives  have  wandered  round 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    323 

and  round  the  whole  night  through,  and  they  are  now,  alas ! 
exactly  where  they  started. 

"  We  are  lost,"  murmured  Schnell ;  "  there  is  no  hope !  " 

"  No,  we  are  not  lost ! "  shouted  Trenck ;  "  we  have 
young,  healthy  limbs,  and  weapons.  They  shall  never  take 
us  alive." 

"  But  we  cannot  escape  them.  Our  appearance  will  in- 
stantly betray  us ;  I  am  in  full  uniform,  and  you  in  your  red 
coat  of  the  body-guard,  both  of  us  without  hats.  Any  man 
would  know  we  were  deserters." 

"  Woe  to  him  who  calls  us  so !  we  will  slay  him,  and  walk 
over  his  dead  body.  And  now  for  some  desperate  resolve. 
We  cannot  go  backward,  we  must  advance,  and  pass  right 
through  the  midst  of  our  enemies  in  order  to  reach  the  bor- 
der. You  know  the  way,  and  the  whole  region  round  about. 
Come,  Schnell,  let  us  hold  a  council  of  war." 

"  We  must  pass  through  that  village  in  front  of  us.  How 
shall  we  attempt  to  do  so  ilnchallenged  ? " 

Half  an  hour  later  a  singular  couple  drew  near  to  the  last 
house  of  the  village.  One  was  a  severely  wounded,  bleeding 
officer  of  the  king's  body-guard;  his  face  was  covered  with 
blood,  a  bloody  handkerchief  was  bound  about  his  brow,  and 
his  hands  tied  behind  his  back.  Following  him,  limped  an 
officer  in  full  parade  dress,  but  bareheaded.  With  rude, 
coarse  words  he  drove  the  poor  prisoner  before  him,  and  cried 
for  help.     Immediately  two  peasants  rushed  from  the  house. 

*'  Run  to  the  village,"  said  the  officer,  "  and  tell  the  judge 
to  have  a  carriage  got  ready  immediately,  that  I  may  take 
this  deserter  to  the  fortress.  I  succeeded  in  capturing  him, 
but  he  shot  my  horse,  and  I  fear  I  broke  a  bone  in  falling; 
you  see,  though,  how  I  have  cut  him  to  pieces.  I  think  he  is 
mortally  wounded.  Bring  a  carriage  instantly,  that  I  may 
take  him,  while  yet  alive,  to  the  citadel." 

One  of  the  men  started  at  once,  the  other  nodded  to  them 
to  enter  his  hut. 

Stumbling  and  stammering  out  words  of  pain,  the  wound- 
ed man  followed  him;  cursing  and  railing,  the  officer  limped 
behind  him.  On  entering  the  room,  the  wounded  man  sank 
upon  the  floor,  groaning  aloud.  A  young  girl  advanced  has- 
tily, and  took  his  wounded  head  in  her  arms;  while  an  old 
31 


324  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

woman,  who  stood  upon  the  hearth,  brought  a  vessel  of  warm 
milk  to  comfort  him. 

The  old  peasant  stood  at  the  window,  and  looked,  with  a 
peculiar  smile,  at  the  officer,  who  seated  himself  upon  a 
bench  near  the  fire,  and  drank  the  milk  greedily  which  the 
old  woman  handed  him.  Suddenly  the  old  man  advanced  in 
front  of  the  officer  and  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Your  disguise  is  n-^  t  necessary.  Lieutenant  Schnell,  I 
know  you;  my  son  served  in  your  company.  There  was  an 
officer  from  the  citadel  here  last  night,  and  informed  us  of 
the  two  deserters.  You  are  one.  Lieutenant  Schnell,  and 
that  is  the  other.     That  is  Baron  Trenck." 

And  now,  the  wounded  man,  as  if  cured  by  magic,  sprang 
to  his  feet.  The  sound  of  his  name  had  given  him  health 
and  strength,  and  healed  the  wound  in  his  forehead.  He 
threw  the  handkerchief  off,  and  rushed  out,  while  Schnell 
with  prayers  and  threats  held  back  the  old  man,  and  entreat- 
ed him  to  show  them  the  nearest  way  to  the  border. 

Trenck  hastened  to  the  stable — two  horses  were  in  the 
stalls.  The  young  girl,  who  had  held  his  head  so  tenderly, 
came  up  behind  him. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  sir  ? "  she  said  anxiously,  as 
Trenck  released  the  horses.  "  You  will  not  surely  take  my 
father's  horses  ? — if  you  do,  I  will  cry  aloud  for  help." 

"  If  you  dare  to  cry  aloud,  I  will  murder  you,"  said 
Trenck,  with  flaming  eyes,  "  and  then  I  will  kill  myself !  I 
have  sworn  that  I  will  not  be  taken  alive  into  the  fortress. 
Have  pity,  beautiful  child — your  eyes  are  soft  and  kindly, 
and  betray  a  tender  heart.  Help  me — think  how  beauti- 
ful, how  glorious  is  the  world  and  life  and  liberty  to  the 
young!  My  enemies  will  deprive  me  of  all  this,  and 
chain  me  in  a  cell,  like  a  wild  beast.  Oh,  help  me  to 
escape ! " 

"  How  can  I  help  you  ?  "  said  Mariandel,  greatly  touched. 

"  Give  me  saddles  and  bridles  for  these  horses,  in  order 
that  I  may  flee.  I  swear  to  you,  by  God  and  by  my  beloved, 
that  they  shall  be  returned  to  you ! " 

"You  have  then  a  sweetheart,  sir?" 

"  T  have — and  she  weeps  day  and  night  for  me." 

"  I  will  give  you  the  saddles  in  remembrance  of  my  own 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    325 

beloved,  who  is  far  away  from  me.  Come,  saddle  your  horse 
quickly — I  will  saddle  the  other." 

"  Now,  farewell,  Mariandel — one  kiss  at  parting — fare- 
well, compassionate  child!  Schnell,  Schnell,  quick,  quick 
to  horse,  to  horse !  " 

Schnell  rushed  out  of  the  hut,  the  peasant  after  him. 
He  saw  with  horror  that  his  horses  were  saddled;  that 
Schnell,  in  spite  of  his  foot,  had  mounted  one,  and  Trenck 
was  seated  upon  the  other. 

"  My  God !  will  you  steal  my  horses  ?    Help !  help !  " 

Mariandel  laid  her  hand  upon  her  father's  lips,  and  sup- 
pressed his  cries  for  help.  "  Father,  he  has  a  bride,  and  she 
weeps  for  him ! — think  upon  Joseph,  and  let  them  go." 

The  fugitives  dashed  away.  Their  long  hair  fluttered 
in  the  wind,  their  cheeks  glowed  with  excitement  and  ex- 
pectation. Already  the  village  lay  far  behind  them. 
Onward,  over  the  plains,  over  the  meadows,  over  the  stubble- 
fields  ! 

"  Schnell,  Schnell,  I  see  houses — I  see  towns.  Schnell, 
there  lies  a  city !  " 

"  That  is  Wunschelburg,  and  we  must  ride  directly 
through  it,  for  this  is  the  nearest  way  to  Bohemia." 

"  There  is  a  garrison  there,  but  we  must  ride  through 
them.  Aha !  this  is  royal  sport !  We  will  dash  right  through 
the  circle  of  our  enemies.  They  will  be  so  amazed  at  our 
insolence,  that  they  will  allow  us  to  escape.  Hei!  here  are 
the  gates — the  bells  are  ringing  for  church.  Onward,  on- 
ward, my  gallant  steed,  you  must  fly  as  if  you  had  wings !  " 

Huzza!  how  the  flint  strikes  fire!  how  the  horses'  hoofs 
resound  on  the  pavement!  how  the  gayly-dressed  church- 
goers, who  were  advancing  so  worthily  up  the  street,  fly 
screaming  to  every  side!  how  the  lazy  hussars  thinking  no 
harm,  stand  at  the  house  doors,  and  fix  their  eyes  with  horror 
upon  these  two  bold  riders,  who  dash  past  them  like  a  storm- 
wind! 

And  now  they  have  reached  the  outer  gate — the  city  lies 
behind  them.  Forward,  forward,  in  mad  haste !  The  horses 
bow,  their  knees  give  way,  but  the  bold  riders  rein  them  up 
with  powerful  arms,  and  they  spring  onward. 

Onward,  still  onward!    "But  what  is  that?  who  is  this 


326  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

advancing  directly  in  front  of  us  ?  Schnell,  do  you  not  know 
him  ?     That  is  Captain  Zerbtz !  " 

Yes,  that  is  Captain  Zerbtz,  who  has  been  sent  with  his 
hussars  to  arrest  the  fugitives;  but  he  is  alone,  and  his  men 
are  not  in  sight.  He  rode  on  just  in  front  of  them.  When 
near  enough  to  be  heard,  he  said,  "  Brothers,  hasten !  Go  to 
the  left,  pass  that  solitary  house.  That  is  the  boundary- 
line.*    My  hussars  have  gone  to  the  right." 

He  turned  his  horse  quickly,  and  dashed  away.  The  fu- 
gitives flew  to  the  left,  passed  the  lonely  house,  passed  the 
white  stone  which  marked  the  border,  and  now  just  a  little 
farther  on. 

"  Oh,  comrade,  let  our  horses  breathe !  Let  us  rest  and 
thank  God,  for  we  are  saved — ^we  have  passed  the  border !  " 

"  We  are  free,  free ! "  cried  Trenck,  with  so  loud  a  shout 
of  joy  that  the  mountains  echoed  with  the  happy  sound,  and 
reechoed  back,  "  Free,  free !  " 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

I  WILL, 

Swiftly,  noiselessly,  and  unheeded  the  days  of  prosperity 
and  peace  passed  away.  King  Frederick  has  been  happy; 
he  does  not  even  remember  that  more  than  two  years  of  calm 
content  and  enjoyment  have  been  granted  him — two  years 
in  which  he  dared  lay  aside  his  sword,  and  rest  quietly  upon 
his  laurels.  This  happy  season  had  been  rich  in  blessings; 
bringing  its  laughing  tribute  of  perfumed  roses  and  bloom- 
ing myrtles.  Two  years  of  such  happiness  seems  almost 
miraculous  in  the  life  of  a  king. 

Our  happy  days  are  ever  uneventful.  True  love  is  si- 
lent and  retiring;  it  does  not  speak  its  rapture  to  the  pro- 
fane world,  but  hides  itself  in  the  shadows  of  holy  solitude 
and  starry  night.    Let  us  not,  then,  lift  the  veil  with  which 

*  Trenck's  Memoirs, 


PREDEEICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    327 

King  Frederick  had  concealed  his  love.  These  two  years  of 
bloom  and  fragrance  shall  pass  by  unquestioned. 

When  the  sun  is  most  lustrous,  we  turn  away  our  eyes, 
lest  they  be  blinded  by  his  rays^  but  when  clouds  and  dark- 
ness are  around  about  us,  we  look  up  curiously  and  question- 
ingly.  King  Frederick's  sun  is  no  longer  clear  and  dazzling, 
dark  clouds  are  passing  over  it ;  a  shadow  from  these  clouds 
has  fallen  upon  the  young  and  handsome  face  of  the  king, 
quenched  the  flashing  glance  of  his  eye,  and  checked  the 
rapid  beating  of  his  heart. 

What  was  it  which  made  King  Frederick  so  restless  and 
unhappy  ?  He  did  not  know  himself,  or,  rather,  he  woidd  not 
know.  An  Alp  seemed  resting  upon  his  heart,  repressing 
every  joyful  emotion,  and  making  exertion  impossible.  He 
sought  distraction  in  work,  and  in  the  early  morning  he 
called  his  ministers  to  council,  but  his  thoughts  were  far 
away;  he  listened  without  heai'ing,  and  the  most  important 
statements  seemed  to  him  trivial.  He  mistrusted  himself, 
and  dismissed  his  ministers.  It  was  Frederick's  custom  to 
read  every  letter  and  petition  himself,  and  write  his  answer 
upon  the  margin.  This  being  done,  he  turned  to  his  ordinary, 
studies  and  occupations,  and  commenced  writing  in  his 
^'Histoire  de  Mon  Tempsy  Soon,  however,  he  found  him- 
self gazing  upon  the  paper,  lost  in  wandering  thoughts  and 
wild,  fantastic  dreams.  He  threw  his  pen  aside,  and  tried 
to  lose  himself  in  the  beautiful  creations  of  his  favorite 
poet,  all  things  in  nature  and  fiction  seemed  alike  vain. 

Frederick  threw  his  book  aside  in  despair.  "  What  is  the 
matter  with  me  ?  "  he  exclaimed  angrily.  "  I  am  not  myself ; 
some  wicked  fairy  has  cast  a  spell  about  me,  and  bound  my 
soul  in  magic  fetters.  I  cannot  work,  I  cannot  think;  con- 
tent and  quiet  peace  are  banished  from  ray  breast!  What 
does  this  signify?  and  why — "  He  did  not  complete  his 
sentence,  but  gazed  with  breathless  attention  to  the  door. 
He  had  heard  one  tone  of  a  voice  without  which  made  his 
heart  tremble  and  his  eyes  glow  with  their  wonted  fire. 

"  Announce  to  his  majesty  that  I  am  here,  and  plead  im- 
portunately for  an  audience,"  said  a  soft,  sweet  voice. 

"  The  king  has  commanded  that  no  one  shall  be  ad- 
mitted." 


328  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

"Announce  me,  nevertheless,"  said  the  petitioner  im- 
periously. 

"  That  is  impossible !  " 

Frederick  had  heard  enough.  He  stepped  to  the  door 
and  threw  it  open.  "  Signora,  I  am  ready  to  receive  you; 
have  the  goodness  to  enter."  He  stepped  abruptly  forward, 
and,  giving  his  hand  to  Barbarina,  led  her  into  his  cabinet. 

Barbarina  greeted  him  with  a  sweet  smile,  and  gave  a 
glance  of  triumph  to  the  guard,  who  had  dared  to  refuse  her 
entrance. 

The  king  conducted  her  silently  to  his  boudoir,  and 
nodded  to  her  to  seat  herself  upon  the  divan.  But  Barba- 
rina remained  standing,  and  fixed  her  great  burning  eyes 
upon  his  face. 

"  I  see  a  cloud  upon  your  brow,  sire,"  said  she,  in  a  fond 
and  flattering  tone.  "  What  poor  insect  has  dared  to  vex 
my  royal  lion?     Was  it  an  insect?     Was  it — " 

"  No,  no,"  said  Frederick,  interrupting  her,  "  an  angel  or 
a  devil  has  tortured  me,  and  banished  joy  and  peace  from  my 
heart.  Now  tell  me,  Barbarina,  what  are  you?  Are  you  a 
demon,  come  to  martyr  me,  or  an  angel  of  light,  who  will 
transform  my  wild  dreams  of  love  and  bliss  into  reality? 
There  are  hours  of  rapture  in  which  I  believe  the  latter,  in 
which  your  glance  of  light  and  glory  wafts  my  soul  on  golden 
wings  into  the  heaven  of  heavens,  and  I  say  to  myself,  *  I 
am  not  only  a  king,  but  a  god,  for  I  have  an  angel  by  my  side 
to  minister  to  me.'  But  then,  alas!  come  weary  times  in 
which  you  seem  to  me  an  evil  demon,  and  I  see  in  your  flash- 
ing eyes  that  eternal  hatred  which  you  swore  to  cherish  in 
the  first  hour  of  our  meeting." 

"Alas!  does  your  majesty  still  remember  that?"  said 
Barbarina,  in  a  tone  of  tender  reproof. 

"You  have  taken  care  that  I  shall  not  forget  it.  You 
once  told  me  that  from  hatred  to  love  was  but  a  small  step. 
If  you  have  truly  advanced  so  far,  how  can  I  be  assured  but 
you  will  one  day  step  backward  ? " 

"  How  can  you  be  assured  ?  "  said  she,  pointing  a  rosy 
finger  with  indescribable .  grace  at  the  king.  "  Ah,  sire ! 
your  divine  beauty,  your  eyes,  which  have  borrowed  light- 
ning from  Jove  and  glory  from  the  sun — your  brow,  where 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT   AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    329 

majesty  and  wisdom  sit  enthroned,  and  that  youthful  and 
enchanting  smile  which  illuminates  the  whole — all  these 
make  assurance  doubly  sure!  I  will  not  allude  to  your 
throne,  and  its  pomp  and  power !  What  is  it  to  me  that  you 
are  a  king?  For  me  you  are  a  man,  a  hero,  a  god.  Had  I 
met  you  as  a  shepherd  in  the  fields,  I  should  have  said, 

*  There  is  a  god  in  disguise ! '     The  fable  is  verified,  and 

*  Apollo  is  before  me ! '  Apollo,  I  adore,  I  worship  you ! 
let  one  ray  from  your  heavenly  eyes  fall  upon  my  face ! " 
She  knelt  before  him,  folding  her  hands,  extended  them 
pleadingly  toward  the  king,  and  looked  upon  him  with  a  rav- 
ishing smile. 

The  king  raised  her,  and  pressed  her  in  his  arms,  then 
took  her  small  head  in  his  hands,  and  turning  it  backward, 
gazed  searchingly  in  her  face. 

"  Oh !  Barbarina,"  said  he,  sadly,  "  to-day  you  are  an 
angel,  why  were  you  a  demon  yesterday?  Why  did  you 
martyr  and  torture  me  with  your  childish  moods  and  pas- 
sionate temper?  Why  is  your  heart,  which  can  be  so  soft 
and  warm,  sometimes  cold  as  an  iceberg  and  wholly  pitiless  ? 
Child !  child !  do  you  not  know  I  have  been  wounded  by  many 
griefs,  and  that  every  rough  word  and  every  angry  glance  is 
like  a  poisoned  dagger  to  my  soul?  I  had  looked  forward 
with  such  delight  to  our  meeting  yesterday  at  Rothenberg's ! 
I  expected  so  much  happiness,  and  I  had  earned  it  by  a  dili- 
gent and  weary  day's  work.  Alas!  you  spoiled  all  by  your 
frowning  brow  and  sullen  silence.  It  was  your  fault  that 
I  returned  home  sad  and  heartless.  I  could  not  sleep,  but 
passed  the  night  in  trying  to  find  out  the  cause  of  your 
melancholy.  This  morning  I  could  not  work,  and  have 
robbed  my  kingdom  and  my  people  of  the  hours  which  prop- 
erly belong  to  them ;  weak  and  powerless,  I  have  been  swaj-^ed 
wholly  by  gloom  and  discontent.  What  was  it,  Barbarina, 
which  veiled  your  clear  brow  with  frowns,  and  made  your 
Bweet  voice  so  harsh  and  stern  ?  " 

"  What  was  it  ? "  said  Barbarina,  sadly ;  and  resting  on 
the  arm  of  the  king,  she  leaned  her  head  back  and  looked  up 
at  him  with  half-closed  eyes.  "  It  was  ambition  which  tor- 
tured me.  But  I  did  wrong  to  conceal  any  thing  from  you. 
I  should,  without  sullen  or  angry  looks,  have  made  known 


330  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OB, 

the  cause  of  my  despair.  I  should  have  felt  that  I  had 
only  to  breathe  my  request,  and  that  the  noble  and  magnani- 
mous heart  of  my  king  would  understand  me.  I  should  have 
known  that  the  man  who  had  won  laurels  in  the  broad  fields 
of  science  and  on  the  bloody  battle-field,  would  appreciate 
this  thirst  for  renown;  this  glowing,  burning  hate  toward 
those  who  cross  our  paths  and  wish,  to  share  our  fame ! " 

"Jealous?  you  are  jealous,  then,  of  some  other  artiste,''^ 
said  the  king,  releasing  Barbarina  from  his  arms. 

"  Yes,  sire,  I  am  jealous ! — ^jealous  of  your  smiles,  of  your 
applause;  of  the  public  voice,  of  the  bravos,  which  like  a 
golden  shower  have  fallen  upon  me  alone,  and  which  I  must 
now  divide  with  another !  " 

"  Of  whom,  then,  are  you  jealous?  "  said  the  king. 

She  threw  her  head  back  proudly,  a  crimson  blush  blazed 
upon  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  sparkled  angrily, 

"  Why  has  this  Marianna  Cochois  been  engaged  ?  Why 
has  Baron  von  Swartz  put  this  contempt  upon  me  ?  "  said  she 
fiercely.  "  To  engage  another  artiste  is  to  say  to  the  world, 
that  Barbarina  no  longer  pleases,  that  she  no  longer  has  the 
power  to  enrapture  the  public,  that  her  triumphs  are  over, 
and  her  day  is  past!  Oh!  this  thought  has  made  me  wild! 
Is  not  Barbarina  the  first  dancer  of  the  world?  Can  it  be 
that  another  prima  donna,  and  not  the  Barbarina,  is  engaged 
for  the  principal  ^^^e  in  a  new  and  splendid  ballet?  Does 
Barbarina  live,  and  has  she  not  murdered  the  one  who  dared 
to  do  this,  to  bring  this  humiliation  upon  her  ? " 

Tears  gushed  from  her  eyes,  and  sobbing  loudly,  she  hid 
her  face  in  her  hands.  The  king  gazed  sadly  upon  her,  and  a 
weary  smile  played  upon  his  lip. 

"  You  are  all  alike — all,"  said  he,  bitterly,  "  and  the  great 
artiste  is  even  as  narrow-minded  and  pitiful  as  the  unknown 
and  humble ;  you  are  all  weak,  vain,  envious,  and  swayed  by 
small  passions;  and  to  think  that  you,  Barbarina,  are  not  an 
exception;  that  the  Barbarina  weeps  because  Marianna  Co- 
chois is  to  play  the  principal  rdle  in  the  new  ballet,  '  Toste 
Oalanti:  " 

"  She  shall  not,  she  dare  not,"  cried  Barbarina ;  "  I  will 
not  suffer  this  humiliation;  I  will  not  be  disgraced,  dishon- 
ored in  Berlin;  I  will  not  sit  unnoticed  in  a  loge-  and  listen 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    331 

to  the  bravos  and  plaudits  awarded  to  another  artiste  which 
belong  to  me  alone !  Oh,  sire,  do  not  allow  this  shame  to  be 
put  upon  me !  Command  that  this  part,  which  is  mine,  which 
belongs  to  me  by  right  of  the  world-wide  fame  which  I  have 
achieved,  be  given  to  me!  I  implore  your  majesty  to  take 
tliis  role  from  the  Coehois,  and  restore  it  to  me." 

"  That  is  impossible,  Barbarina.  The  Coehois,  like  every 
other  artiste,  must  have  her  debut.  Baron  Swartz  has  given 
her  the  principal  part  in '  Toste  Galanti,'  and  I  cannot  blame 
him." 

"  Oh !  your  majesty,  I  beseech  you  to  listen.  Is  it  not 
true — will  you  not  bearwitness  to  the  fact  that  Barbarina  has 
never  put  your  liberality  and  magnanimity  to  the  test;  that 
she  has  never  shoA\Ti  herself  to  be  egotistical  or  mercenary? 
I  ask  nothing  from  my  king  but  his  heart,  the  happiness 
to  sit  at  his  feet,  and  in  the  sunshine  of  his  eyes  to  bathe  my 
being  in  light  and  gladness.  Sire,  you  have  often  complained 
that  I  desired  and  would  accept  nothing  from  you;  that 
diamonds  and  pearls  had  no  attraction  for  me.  You  know 
that  not  the  slightest  shadow  of  selfishness  has  fallen  upon 
my  love !  Xow,  then,  I  have  a  request  to-day :  I  ask  some- 
thing from  my  king  which  is  more  precious  in  my  eyes  than 
all  the  diamonds  of  the  world.  Give  me  this  rSle;  that  is, 
allow  me  to  remain  in  the  undisturbed  possession  of  my 
fame."  She  bowed  her  knee  once  more  before  the  king,  but 
this  time  he  did  not  raise  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Barbarina,"  said  he,  sadly  and  thoughtfully,  "  put  away 
from  you  this  unworthy  and  pitiful  envy.  Cast  it  off  as  you 
do  the  tinsel  robes  and  rouge  of  the  stage  with  which  you 
conceal  your  beauty.  Be  yourself  again.  The  noble,  proud, 
and  great-hearted  woman  who  shines  without  the  aid  of 
garish  ornament,  who  is  ever  the  queen  of  grace  and 
beauty,  and  needs  not  the  borrowed  and  false  purple  and 
ermine  of  the  stage.  Grant  graciously  to  the  Coehois  this 
small  glory,  you  who  are  everywhere  and  always  a  queen  in 
your  OAvn  right !  " 

Barbarina  sprang  from  her  kneec  with  flashing  eyes. 
"  Sire,"  said  she,  "  you  refuse  my  request — my  first  request— 
you  will  not  order  that  this  part  shall  be  given  to  me  ? " 

"  I  cannot ;  it  would  be  unjust." 


332  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

"  And  so  I  must  suffer  this  deadly  shame ;  must  see  an- 
other play  the  part  which  belongs  to  me ;  another  made  glad 
by  the  proud  triumphs  which  are  mine  and  should  remain 
mine.  I  will  not  suffer  this !  I  swear  it !  So  true  as  my 
name  is  Barbarina  I  will  have  no  rival  near  me !  I  will  not 
be  condemned  to  this  daily  renewed  struggle  after  the  first 
rank  as  an  artiste.  I  will  not  bear  the  possibility  of  a  com- 
parison between  myself  and  any  other  woman.  I  am  and  I 
will  remain  the  first ;  yes,  I  will !  " 

She  raised  herself  up  defiantly,  and  her  burning  glance 
fell  upon  the  face  of  the  king,  but  he  met  it  firmly,  and  if 
the  bearing  of  Barbarina  was  proud  and  commanding,  that 
of  King  Frederick  was  more  imposing. 

"  How !  "  said  he,  in  a  tone  so  harsh  and  threatening  that 
Barbarina,  in  spite  of  her  scorn  and  passion,  felt  her  heart 
tremble  with  fear.  "  How !  Is  there  another  in  Prussia  who 
dares  say,  '  I  will  ? '  Is  it  possible  that  a  voice  is  jraised  in 
contradiction  to  the  expressed  will  of  the  king  ?  " 

Barbarina  turned  pale  and  trembled.  The  countenance 
of  Frederick  expressed  what  she  had  never  seen  before.  It 
was  harsh  and  cold,  and  a  cutting  irony  spoke  in  his  glance 
and  a  contemptuous  smile  played  upon  his  lip. 

"  Mercy,  mercy !  "  cried  she,  pleadingly ;  "  have  pity  with 
my  passion.  Forget  this  inconsiderate  word  which  scorn 
and  despair  drew  from  me.  Oh!  sire,  do  not  look  upon  me 
so  coldly,  unless  you  wish  that  I  should  sink  down  and  die 
at  your  feet;  crush  me  not  in  your  anger,  but  pardon  and 
forget." 

With  her  lovely  face  bathed  in  tears  and  her  arms 
stretched  out  imploringly,  she  drew  near  the  king,  but  he 
stood  up  erect  and  stepped  backward. 

"  Signora  Barbarina,  I  have  nothing  to  forgive,  but  I 
cannot  grant  your  request.  The  Cochois  keeps  her  role,  and 
if  you  have  any  complaint  to  make,  apply  to  your  chief. 
Baron  Swartz;  and  now,  signora,  farewell;  the  audience  is 
ended." 

He  bowed  his  head  lightly  and  turned  away;  but  Barba- 
rina uttered  one  wild  cry,  sprang  after  him,  and  with  mad 
frenzy  she  clung  to  his  arm. 

"  Sire,  sire !  do  not  go,"  she  said,  breathlessly ;  "  do  not 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     333 

forsake  me  in  your  rage.  My  God,  do  you  not  see  that  I 
suffer ;  that  I  shall  be  a  maniac  if  you  desert  me ! "  and, 
gliding  to  his  feet,  she  clasped  his  knees  with  her  beautiful 
arms,  and  looked  up  at  him  imploringly.  "  Oh,  my  king  and 
my  lord,  let  me  be  as  a  slave  at  your  feet;  do  not  spurn  me 
from  you !  " 

King  Frederick  did  not  reply;  he  leaned  forward  and 
looked  down  upon  the  lovely  and  enchanting  woman  lying  at 
his  feet,  and  never,  perhaps,  had  her  charms  appeared  so  in- 
toxicating as  at  this  moment,  but  his  face  was  sad,  and  his 
eyes,  usually  so  clear  and  bright,  were  veiled  in  tears.  There 
was  a  pause.  Barbarina  still  clung  to  his  knees,  and  looked 
up  beseechingly,  and  the  king  regarded  her  with  an  expres- 
sion of  unspeakable  melancholy;  his  great  soul  seemed  to 
speak  in  the  glance  which  fixed  upon  her.  It  was  eloquent 
with  love,  rapture,  and  grief.  Now  their  eyes  met  and 
seemed  immovably  fixed.  In  the  midst  of  the  profound  si- 
lence nothing  was  heard  but  Barbarina's  sighs.  She  knew 
full  well  the  significance  of  this  moment.  She  felt  that  fate, 
with  its  menacing  and  unholy  shadow,  was  hovering  over  her. 
Suddenly  the  king  roused  himself,  and  the  voice  wh»ch  broke 
the  solemn  silence  sounded  strange  and  harsh  to  Barbarina. 

"  Farewell,  Signora  Barbarina,"  said  the  king. 

Barbarina's  arms  sank  down  powerless,  and  a  sob  burst 
from  her  lips.  The  king  did  not  regard  it ;  he  did  not  look 
back.  With  a  firm  hand  he  opened  the  door  which  led  into 
his  chamber;  entered  and  closed  it.  He  sank  upon  a  chair, 
and  gave  one  long  and  weary  sigh.  A  profound  despair  was 
written  on  his  countenance,  and  had  Barbarina  seen  him, 
she  would  have  appreciated  the  anguish  of  his  heart. 

She  lay  bathed  in  tears  before  his  door,  and  cried  aloud : 
"  He  has  forsaken  me !  Oh,  my  God,  he  has  forsaken  me !  " 
This  fearful  and  terrible  thought  maddened  her;  she  sprang 
up  and  shook  the  door  fiercely,  and  with  a  loud  and  piteous 
voice  she  prayed  for  entrance.  She  knew  not  herself  what 
words  of  love,  of  anguish,  of  despair,  and  insulted  pride  burst 
from  her  pallid  lips.  One  moment  she  threatened  fiercely, 
then  pleaded  touchingly  for  pardon;  sometimes  her  voice 
seemed  full  of  tears — then  cold  and  commanding.  The  king 
stood  with  folded  arms,  leaning  against  the  other  side  of  the 


334  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

door.  He  heard  these  paroxysms  of  grief  and  rage,  and 
every  word  fell  upon  his  heart  as  the  song  of  the  siren  upon 
the  ear  of  Ulysses.  But  Frederick  was  mighty  and  powerful ; 
he  needed  no  ropes  or  wax  to  hold  him  back.  He  had  the 
strength  to  control  his  will,  and  the  voice  of  wisdom,  the 
warning  voice  of  duty,  spoke  louder  than  the  siren's  song. 

"No,"  said  he,  "I  will  not,  I  dare  not  allow  myself  to 
be  again  seduced.  All  this  must  come  to  an  end  I  I  have 
long  known  this,  but  I  had  no  strength  to  resist  temptation. 
Have  I  not  solemnly  sworn  to  have  but  one  aim  in  life — ^to 
place  the  good  of  my  people  far  above  my  own  personal  hap- 
piness ?  If  the  man  and  the  king  strive  within  me  for  mastery, 
the  king  must  triiunph  above  all  other  things.  I  must  con- 
sider the  holy  duties  which  my  crown  lays  upon  me;  my 
time,  my  thoughts,  my  strength,  belong  to  my  people,  my 
land.  I  have  already  robbed  them,  for  I  have  withdrawn  my- 
self. I  have  suffered  an  enchantress  to  step  between  me 
and  my  duty — another  will  than  mine  finds  utterance,  in* 
fluences,  and  indeed  controls  my  thoughts  and  actions.  Alas ! 
a  king  should  be  old  and  be  bom  with  the  heart  of  a  gray- 
beard — ^he  dare  never  have  a  heart  of  youth  and  fire  if  he 
would  serve  his  people  faithfully  and  honestly!  With  a 
heart  of  flesh  I  might  have  been  a  happier,  a  more  amiable 
man,  but  a  weak,  unworthy  king.  I  should  have  been  intoxi- 
cated by  a  woman's  love,  and  her  light  wish  would  have  been 
more  powerful  than  my  will.  Never,  never  shall  that  be  I 
I  will  have  the  courage  to  trample  my  own  heart  under  foot, 
and  the  sorrows  of  the  man  shall  be  soothed  and  healed  by 
the  pomp  and  glory  of  the  king." 

In  the  next  room  Barbarina  leaned  over  against  the  door, 
exhausted  by  her  prayers  and  tears.  "Listen  to  me,  my 
king,"  said  she,  softly.  "  In  one  hour  you  have  broken  my 
wiU  and  humbled  my  pride  forever !  From  this  time  onward 
Barbarina  has  no  will  but  yours.  Command  me,  then, 
wholly.  Say  to  me  that  I  am  never  to  dance  again,  and  I 
swear  to  you  that  my  foot  shall  never  more  step  upon  the 
stage;  command  that  all  my  rdles  shall  be  given  to  the 
Cochois,  I  will  myself  hand  them  to  her  and  pray  her  to 
accept  them.  You  see,  my  king,  that  I  am  no  longer  proud 
— ^no  longer  ambitious.    Have  mercy  upon  me  then,  sire; 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    335 

open  this  fearful  door;  let  me  look  upon  your  face;  let  me 
lie  at  your  feet.  Oh,  my  king,  be  merciful,  be  gracious; 
cast  me  not  away  from  you !  " 

The  king  leaned,  agitated  and  trembling,  against  the 
door.  Once  he  raised  his  arm  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
bolt.  Barbarina  uttered  a  joyful  cry,  for  she  had  heard  this 
movement.  But  the  king  withdrew  his  hand  again.  All  was 
still;  from  time  to  time  the  king  heard  a  low  sigh,  a  sup- 
pressed sob,  then  silence  followed. 

Barbarina  pleaded  no  more.  She  knew  and  felt  it  -was  in 
vain.  Scorn  and  wounded  pride  dried  the  tears  which  love 
and  despair  had  caused  to  flow.  She  wept  no  more — ^her 
eyes  were  flaming — she  cast  wild,  angry  glances  toward  the 
door  before  which  she  had  lain  so  long  in  humble  entreaty. 
Threateningly  she  raised  her  arms  toward  heaven,  and  her 
lips  murmured  unintelligible  words  of  cursing  or  oaths  of 
vengeance. 

"  Farewell,  King  Frederick,"  she  said,  at  last,  in  mellow, 
joyous  tones — "  farewell !  Barbarina  leaves  you." 

She  felt  that,  in  uttering  these  words,  the  tears  had  again 
rushed  to  her  eyes.  She  shook  her  head  wildly,  and  closed 
her  eyelids,  and  pressed  her  hands  firmly  upon  them,  thus 
forcing  back  the  bitter  tears  to  their  source.  Then  with  one 
wild  spring,  like  an  enraged  lioness,  she  sprang  to  the  other 
door,  opened  it  and  rushed  out. 

Frederick  waited  some  time,  then  entered  the  room, 
which  seemed  to  him  to  resound  with  the  sighs  and  prayers 
of  Barbarina.  It  brought  back  the  memory  of  joys  that  were 
past,  and  it  appeared  to  him  even  as  the  death-chamber  of  his 
hopes  and  happiness.  He  stepped  hastily  through  the  room 
and  bolted  the  door  through  which  Barbarina  had  gone  out. 
He  wished  to  be  alone.  No  one  should  share  his  solitude — no 
one  should  breathe  this  air,  still  perfumed  by  the  sighs  of 
Barbarina.  King  Frederick  looked  slowly  and  sadly  around 
him,  then  hastened  to  the  door  before  which  Barbarina  had 
knelt.  An  embroidered  handkerchief  lay  upon  the  floor. 
The  king  raised  it ;  it  was  wet  with  tears,  and  warm  and  fra- 
grant from  contact  with  her  soft,  fine  hand.  He  pressed  it 
to  his  lips  and  to  his  burning  eyes;  then  murmured,  lightly, 
'^  Farewell  1  a  last,  long  farewell  to  happiness  I  " 


336  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

CHAPTEK   XV. 

THE  LAST  STRUGGLE  FOR  POWER. 

Restless  and  anxious  the  two  cavaliers  of  the  king  paced 
the  anteroom,  turning  their  eyes  constantly  toward  the  door 
which  led  into  the  king's  study,  and  which  had  not  been 
opened  since  yesterday  morning.  For  twenty-four  hours 
the  king  had  not  left  his  room.  In  vain  had  General  Rothen- 
berg  and  Duke  Algarotti  prayed  for  admittance. 

The  king  had  not  even  replied  to  them ;  he  had,  however, 
called  Fredersdorf,  and  commanded  him  sternly  to  admit  no 
one,  and  not  to  return  himself  unless  summoned.  The  king 
would  take  no  refreshment,  would  undress  himself,  required 
no  assistance,  and  must  not  be  disturbed  in  the  important 
work  which  now  occupied  him. 

This  strict  seclusion  and  unaccustomed  silence  made  the 
king's  friends  and  servants  very  anxious.  With  oppressed 
hearts  they  stood  before  the  door  and  listened  to  every  sound 
from  the  room.  During  many  hours  they  heard  the  regular 
step  of  the  king  as  .he  walked  backward  and  forward;  some- 
times he  uttered  a  hasty  word,  then  sighed  wearily,  and  noth- 
ing more. 

Night  came  upon  them.  Pale  with  alarm,  Rothenberg 
asked  Algarotti  if  it  was  not  their  duty  to  force  the  door  and 
ascertain  the  condition  of  his  majesty. 

"  Beware  how  you  take  that  rash  step !  "  said  Freders- 
dorf, shaking  his  head.  "  The  king's  commands  were  im- 
perative ;  he  will  be  alone  and  undisturbed." 

"  Have  you  no  suspicion  of  the  cause  of  his  majesty's  dis- 
tress ? "  asked  Algarotti. 

"  For  some  days  past  the  king  has  been  grave  and  out  of 
humor,"  replied  Fredersdorf.  "  I  am  inclined  to  the  opinion 
that  his  majesty  has  been  angered  and  wounded  by  some 
dear  friend." 

General  Rothenberg  bent  over  and  whispered  to  Algarot- 
ti :  "  Barbarina  has  wounded  him ;  for  some  time  past  she 
has  been  sullen  and  imperious.  These  haughty  and  power- 
ful natures  have  been  carrying  on  an  invisible  war  with  each 
Other ;  they  both  conteud  for  sovereignty," 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    337 

"  If  this  is  so,  I  predict  confidently  that  the  beautiful 
Barbarina  will  be  conquered,"  said  Algarotti.  "  Mankind 
will  always  be  conquered  by  Frederick  the  king,  and  must 
submit  to  him.  So  soon  as  Frederick  the  Great  recognizes 
the  fact  that  the  man  in  him  is  subjected  by  the  enchanting 
Barbarina,  like  Alexander  the  Great^  he  will  cut  the  gordian 
knot,  and  release  himself  from  even  the  soft  bondage  of 
love." 

"  I  fear  that  he  is  strongly  bound,  and  that  the  gordian 
knot  of  love  can  withstand  even  the  king's  sword.  Fred- 
erick, ordinarily  so  unapproachable,  so  inexorable  in  his 
authority  and  self-control,  endures  with  a  rare  patience  the 
proud,  commanding  bearing  of  Barbarina.  Even  yesterday 
evening  when  the  king  did  me  the  honor  to  sup  with  me  in 
the  society  of  the  Barbarina,  in  spite  of  her  peevishness  and 
ever-changing  mood,  he  was  the  most  gallant  and  attentive 
of  cavaliers." 

"  And  you  think  the  king  has  not  seen  the  signora  since 
that  time  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know ;  let  us  ask  the  guard." 

The  gentlemen  ascertained  from  the  guard  that  Barba- 
rina had  left  the  king's  room  in  the  morning,  deadly  pale, 
and  with  her  eyes  inflamed  by  weeping. 

"  You  see  that  I  was  right,"  said  Algarotti ;  "  this  love- 
affair  has  reached  a  crisis." 

"  In  which  I  fear  the  king  will  come  to  grief,"  said 
Eothenberg.  "  Believe  me,  his  majesty  loves  Barbarina 
most  tenderly." 

"  Not  the  king !  the  man  loves  Barbarina.  But  listen ! 
did  you  not  hear  a  noise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  low  tone  of  a  flute,"  said  Fredersdorf.  "  Let 
us  approach  the  door." 

Lightly  and  cautiously  they  stepped  to  the  door,  behind 
which  the  king  had  carried  on  this  fierce  battle  with  himself, 
a  battle  in  which  he  hfyl  shed  his  heart's  best  blood.  Again 
they  heard  the  sound  of  the  flute :  it  trembled  on  the  air  like 
the  last  sigh  of  love  and  happiness;  sometimes  it  seemed 
like  the  stormy  utterance  of  a  strong  soul  in  extremest  an- 
guish, then  melted  softly  away  in  sighs  and  tears.  Never  in 
the  king's  gayest  and  brightest  days  had  he  played  with  such 


338  BERLIN   AND  SANS-SOUCI;    OR, 

masterly  skill  as  now  in  this  hour  of  anguish.  The  pain,  the 
love,  the  doubt,  the  longing  which  swelled  his  heart,  found 
utterance  in  tliis  mournful  adagio.  Greatly  moved,  the 
three  friends  listened  breathlessly  to  this  wondrous  develop- 
ment of  genius.  The  king  completed  the  music  with  a  note 
of  profound  suffering. 

Algarotti  bowed  to  Kothenberg.  "Friend,"  said  he, 
"  that  was  the  last  song  of  the  dying  swan." 

"  God  grant  that  it  was  the  last  song  of  love,  not  the 
death-song  of  the  king's  heart!  When  a  man  tears  love 
forcibly  from  his  heart,  I  am  sure  he  tears  away  also  a  piece 
of  the  heart  in  which  it  was  rooted." 

"Can  we  not  think  of  something  to  console  him?  Let 
us  go  in  the  morning  to  Barbarina;  perhaps  we  may  learn 
from  her  what  has  happened." 

"  Think  you  we  can  do  nothing  more  to-day  to  withdraw 
the  king  from  his  painful  solitude  ?  " 

"I  think  the  king  is  a  warrior  and  a  hero,  and  will  be 
able  to  conquer  himself." 

While  the  king,  in  solitude,  strengthened  only  by  his 
genius,  struggled  with  his  love,  Barbarina,  with  all  the  pas- 
sion of  her  stormy  nature,  endured  inexpressible  torture. 
She  was  not  alone — her  sister  was  with  her,  mingled  her 
tears  with  hers,  and  whispered  sweet  words  of  hope. 

"  The  king  will  return  to  you ;  your  beauty  holds  him 
captive  with  invisible  but  magic  bonds.  Your  grace  and 
fascinations  will  live  in  his  memory,  will  smile  upon  him, 
and  lure  him  back  humble  and  conquered  to  your  feet." 

Barbarina  shook  her  head  sadly.  "  I  have  lost  him. 
The  eagle  has  burst  the  weak  bonds  with  which  I  had  bound 
his  wings ;  now  he  is  free,  he  will  again  unfold  them,  and  rise 
up  conquering  and  to  conquer  in  the  blue  vaults  of  heaven. 
In  the  rapturous  enjoyment  of  liberty  he  will  forget  how 
happy  he  was  in  captivity.  No,  no;  I  have  lost  him  for- 
ever ! "  • 

She  clasped  her  hands  over  her  face,  and  wept  bitterly. 
Then,  as  if  roused  to  extremity  by  some  agonizing  thought, 
she  sprang  from  her  seat ;  her  eyes  were  flashing,  her  cheeks 
crimson. 

"  Oh,  to  think  that  he  abandoned  me;  that  I  was  true  to 


fREDEKlCK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    339 

him;  that  a  man  lives  who  deserted  Barbaiina!     That  is  a 
shame,  a  humiliation,  of  which  I  will  die — yes,  surely  die !  " 

"  But  this  man  was,  at  least,  a  king,"  said  her  sister,  in 
hesitating  tones. 

Barbarina  shook  her  head  fiercely,  and  her  rich  black  hair 
fell  about  her  face  in  wild  disorder. 

"  What  is  it  to  me  that  he  is  a  king  ?  His  sceptre  is  not 
so  powerful  as  that  of  Barbarina.  My  realm  extends  over 
the  universe,  wherever  men  have  eyes  to  see  and  hearts  to 
feel  emotion.  That  this  man  is  a  king  does  not  lessen  my 
shame,  or  make  my  degradation  less  bitter.  Barbarina  is 
deserted,  forsaken,  spurned,  and  yet  lives.  She  is  not 
crushed  and  ground  to  death  by  this  dishonor.  But,  as  I 
live,  I  will  take  vengeance,  vengeance  for  this  monstrous 
wrong — this  murder  of  my  heart !  " 

So,  in  the  midst  of  wild  prayers,  and  tears,  and  oaths  of 
vengeance,  the  day  declined;  long  after,  Barbarina  yielded 
to  the  tender  entreaties  of  Marietta,  and  stretched  herself 
upon  her  couch.  She  buried  her  head  in  the  pillows,  and 
during  the  weary  hours  of  tiiie  night  she  wept  bitterly. 

With  pale  cheeks  and  weary  eyes  she  rose  on  the  follow- 
ing morning.  She  was  still  profoundly  sad,  but  no  longer 
hopeless.  Her  vanity,  her  rare  beauty,  in  whose  magic 
power  she  still  believed,  whispered  golden  words  of  comfort, 
of  encouragement;  she  was  now  convinced  that  the  king 
could  not  give  her  up.  "  He  spurned  me  yesterday,  to-day 
he  will  implore  me  to  forgive  him."  She  was  not  surprised 
when  her  servant  announced  Duke  Algarotti  and  General 
Rothenberg. 

"  Look  you,"  said  she,  turning  to  her  sister,  "  you  see  my 
heart  judged  rightly.  The  king  sends  his  two  most  confiden- 
tial friends  to  conduct  me  to  him.  Oh,  my  God,  grant  that 
this  poor  heart,  which  has  borne  such  agony,  may  not  now 
break  from  excess  of  happiness !  I  shall  see  him  again,  and 
his  beautiful,  loving  eyes  will  melt  out  of  my  heart  even  the 
remembrance  of  the  terrible  glance  with  which  he  looked 
upon  me  yesterday.  Farewell,  sister;  farewell — I  go  to  the 
king." 

"  But  not  so ;  not  in  this  ndglig^e  ;  not  with  this  hair  in 
wild  disorder,"  said  Marietta,  holding  her  back. 
3» 


340  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

"  Yes,  even  as  I  am,"  said  Barbarina.  "  For  his  sake  I 
have  torn  my  hair;  for  his  sake  my  eyes  are  red;  my  sad, 
pale  face  speaks  eloquently  of  my  despair,  and  will  awaken 
his  repentance." 

Proudly,  triumphantly  she  entered  the  saloon,  and  re- 
turned the  profoimd  salutation  of  the  two  gentlemen  with 
a  slight  bow. 

"  You  bring  me  a  message  from  his  majesty  ? "  said  she, 
hastily. 

"  The  king  commissioned  us  to  inquire  after  your  health, 
signora,"  said  Algarotti. 

Barbarina  smiled  significantly.  "  He  sent  you  to  watch 
me  closely,"  thought  she ;  "  he  would  ascertain  if  I  am  ready 
to  pardon,  ready  to  return  to  him,  I  will  meet  them  frankly, 
honestly,  and  make  their  duty  light. — Say  to  his  majesty 
that  I  have  passed  the  night  in  sigl^s  and  tears,  that  my 
heart  is  full  of  repentance.     I  grieve  for  my  conduct." 

The  gentlemen  exchanged  a  meaning  glance;  they  al- 
ready knew  what  they  came  to  learn.  Barbarina  had  had 
a  contest  with  the  king,  and  he  had  separated  from  her  in 
scorn.  Therefore  was  the  proua  Barbarina  so  humble,  so 
repentant. 

Barbarina  looked  at  them  expectantly ;  she  was  convinced 
they  would  now  ask,  in  the  name  of  the  king,  to  be  allowed  to 
conduct  her  to  the  castle.  But  they  said  nothing  to  that 
effect. 

"  Eepentance  must  be  a  very  poisonous  worm,"  said  Gen- 
eral Rothenberg,  looking  steadily  upon  the  face  of  Barba- 
rina ;  "  it  has  changed  the  blooming  rose  of  yesterday  into  a 
fair,  white  blossom." 

"  That  is  perhaps  fortunate,"  said  Algarotti.  "  It  is  well 
known  that  the  white  rose  has  fewer  thorns  than  the  red, 
and  from  this  time  onward,  signora,  there  will  be  less  danger 
of  mortal  wounds  when  approaching  you." 

Barbarina  trembled,  and  her  eyes  flashed  angrily.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  intimate  that  my  strength  and  power  are 
broken,  and  that  I  can  never  recover  my  realm?  Do  you 
mean  that  the  Barbarina,  whom  the  king  so  shamefully  de- 
serted, so  cruelly  humiliated,  is  a  frail  butterfly?  That  the 
purple  hue  of  beauty  has  been  brushed  from  my  wings?  that 


FREDERICK  THE    GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    341 

I  can  no  longer  charm  and  ravish  the  beholder  because  a 
rough  hand  has  touched  me  ? " 

"  I  mean  to  say,  signora,  that  it  will  be  a  happiness  to  the 
king,  if  the  sad  experience  of  the  last  few  days  should  make 
you  milder  and  gentler  of  mood,"  said  Algarotti, 

Kothenberg  and  himself  had  gone  to  Barbarina  to  find 
out,  if  possible,  the  whole  truth.  They  wished  to  deceive  her 
— to  lead  her  to  believe  that  the  king  had  fully  confided  in 
them. 

"  The  king  was  suffering  severely  yesterday  from  the 
wounds  which  the  sharp  thorns  of  the  red  rose  had  inflicted," 
said  Kothenberg. 

"  And  did  he  not  cruelly  revenge  himself  ? "  cried  Barba- 
rina. "  He  left  me  for  long  hours  kneeling  at  his  door, 
wringing  my  hands,  and  pleading  for  pity  and  pardon,  and  he 
showed  no  mercy.  But  that  is  past,  forgotten,  forgiven. 
My  wounds  have  bled  and  they  have  healed,  and  now  health 
and  happiness  will  return  to  my  poor  martyred  heart.  Say 
to  my  king  that  I  am  humble.  I  pray  for  happiness,  not  as 
my  right,  but  as  a  royal  gift  which,  kneeling  and  with  up- 
lifted hands,  I  will  receive,  oh,  how  gratefully !  But  no,  no, 
you  shall  not  tell  this  to  the  king — I  will  confess  all  myself 
to  his  majesty.  Come,  come,  the  king  awaits  us — let  us 
hasten  to  him !  " 

"  We  were  only  commanded  to  inquire  after  the  health 
of  the  signora,"  said  Algarotti,  coolly. 

"  And  as  you  have  assured  us  that  you  have  passed  the 
night  in  tears  and  repentance,  this  confession  may  perhaps 
ameliorate  his  majesty's  sufferings,"  said  Rothenberg. 

Barbarina  looked  amazed  from  one  to  the  other.  Sud- 
denly her  cheeks  became  crimson,  and  her  eyes  flashed  with 
passion.  "  You  did  not  come  to  conduct  me  to  the  king  ? " 
said  she,  breathlessly. 

"No,  signora,  the  king  did  not  give  us  this  commis- 
sion." 

"Ah!  he  demands,  then,  that  I  shall  come  voluntarily? 
"Well,  then,  I  will  go  uncalled.    Lead  me  to  his  majesty !  " 

"  That  is  a  request  which  I  regret  I  cannot  fulfil.  The 
king  has  sternly  commanded  \ia  to  ^dmit  no  pne," 

"Koone?" 


342  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"No  one,  without  exception,  signora,"  said  Algarotti, 
bowing  profoundly. 

Barbarina  pressed  her  lips  together  to  restrain  a  cry  oi 
anguish.  She  pressed  her  hands  upon  the  table  to  sustain 
her  sinking  form.  "  You  have  only  come  to  say  that  the 
king  will  not  receive  me ;  that  to-day,  as  yesterday,  his  doors 
•  are  closed  against  me.  Well,  then,  gentlemen,  you  have  ful- 
filled your  duty.  Go  and  say  to  his  majesty  I  shall  respect 
'his  wishes — go,  sirs!  " 

Barbarina  remained  proudly  erect,  and  replied  to  their 
greeting  with  a  derisive  smile.  With  her  hands  pressed 
nervously  on  the  table,  she  looked  after  the  two  cavaliers  as 
they  left  her  saloon,  with  wide-extended,  tearless  eyes.  But 
when  the  door  closed  upon  them,  when  sure  she  could  not  be 
heard  by  them,  she  uttered  so  -wild,  so  piercing  a  cry  of  an- 
guish, that  Marietta  rushed  into  the  room,  Barbarina  had 
sunk,  as  if  struck  by  lightning,  to  the  floor. 

"  I  am  dishonored,  betrayed,  spurned,"  cried  she,  madly. 
"  0  God !  let  me  not  outlive  this  shame — send  death  to  my 
relief!" 

Soon,  however,  her  cries  of  despair  were  changed  to  words 
of  scorn  and  bitterness.  She  no  longer  wished  to  die — she 
wished  to  revenge  herself.  She  rose  from  her  knees,  and 
paced  the  room  hastily,  raging,  flashing,  filled  with  a  burn- 
ing thirst  for  vengeance,  resolved  to  cast  a  veil  over  her 
shame,  and  hide  it,  at  least,  from  the  eyes  of  the  world. 

"  Marietta,  O  Marietta !  "  cried  she,  breathlessly,  "  help 
me  to  find  the  means  quickly,  by  one  blow  to  satisfy  my  venge- 
ance!— a  means  which  will  prove  to  the  king  that  I  am 
not,  as  he  supposes,  dying  from  grief  and  despair ;  that  I 
am  still  the  Barbarina — the  adored,  triumphant,  all-conquer- 
ing artiste — a  means  which  will  convince  the  whole  world 
that  I  am  not  deserted,  scorned,  but  that  I  myself  am  the 
inconstant  one.  Oh,  where  shall  I  find  the  means  to  rise 
triumphantly  from  this  humiliation?  where — " 

"Silence,  silence,  sister  1  some  one  is  coming.  Let  no 
one  witness  your  agitation."' 

The  servant  entered  and  announced  that  Baron  von 
Swartz,  director  of  the  theatre,  wished  to  know  if  the  sigr- 
nora  would  appear  in  the  ballet  of  the  evening. 


FREDEEICK  THE   GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    a4Jj 

"  Say  to  him  that  I  will  dance  with  pleasure,"  said  Barba- 
rina. 

When  once  more  alone,  Marietta  entreated  her  to  be 
quiet,  and  not  increase  her  agitation  by  appearing  in  pub- 
lic. 

Barbarina  interrupted  her  impatiently.  "  Do  you  not  see 
that  already  the  rumor  of  my  disgrace  has  reached  the 
theatre?  Do  you  not  see  the  malice  of  this  question  of 
Baron  Swartz?  They  think  the  Barbarina  is  so  completely 
broken,  crushed  by  the  displeasure  of  the  king,  that  she  can 
no  longer  dance.  They  have  deceived  themselves — I  will 
dance  to-night.  Perhaps  I  shall  go  mad;  but  I  will  first  re- 
fute the  slander,  and  bring  to  naught  the  report  of  my  dis- 
grace with  the  king." 

And  now  the  servant  entered  and  announced  Monsieur 
Cocceji. 

"  You  cannot  possibly  receive  him,"  whispered  Marietta. 
"Say  that  you  are  studying  your  rdle  for  the  evening;  say 
that  you  are  occupied  with  your  toilet.  Say  what  you  will, 
only  decline  to  receive  him." 

Barbarina  looked  thoughtful  for  a  moment.  "  No,"  said 
she,  musingly,  "  I  will  not  dismiss  him.  Conduct  Cocceji 
to  my  boudoir,  and  say  he  may  expect  me." 

The  moment  the  servant  left  them,  Barbarina  seized  her 
sister's  hand.  "  I  have  prayed  to  God  for  means  to  revenge 
myself,  and  He  has  heard  my  prayer.  You  know  Cocceji 
loves  me,  and  has  long  wooed  me  in  vain.  Well,  then,  to- 
day he  shall  not  plead  in  vain;  to-day  I  will  promise  him 
my  love,  but  I  will  make  my  own  conditions.  Come,  Ma- 
rietta!" 

Glowing  and  lovely  from  excitement,  Barbarina  entered 
the  boudoir  where  the  young  Councillor  Cocceji,  son  of  the 
minister,  awaited  her.  With  an  enchanting  ^paile,  she  ad- 
vanced to  meet  him,  and  fixing  her  great  burning  eyes  upon 
him,  she  said  softly,  "  Are  you  not  yet  cured  of  your  love  for 
me?" 

The  young  man  stepped  back  a  moment  pale  and  wound- 
ed, but  Barbarina  stood  before  him  in  her  wondrous  beauty; 
a  significant,  enchanting  smile  was  on  her  lip,  and  in  her  eyes 
lay  something  so  sweetly  encouraging,  so  bewildering,  that 


344  BERLIN  AND  SA>^S-SOtJCI;  OR, 

he  was  reassured,  he  felt  that  it  was  not  her  intention  to 
mock  at  his  passion. 

"  This  love  is  a  fatal  malady  of  which  I  shall  never  be 
healed,"  he  said  warmly ;  "  a  malady  which  resists  all  reme- 
dies." 

"  What  if  I  return  your  love  ? "  said  she  in  soft,  sweet 
tones. 

Cocceji's  countenance  beamed  with  ecstasy;  he  was  com- 
pletely overcome  by  this  unlooked-for  happiness. 

"  Barbarina,  if  I  dream,  if  I  am  a  somnambulist,  do  not 
awaken  me!  If,  in  midsummer  madness  only,  I  have  heard 
these  blissful  words,  do  not  undeceive  me !  Let  me  dream  on, 
give  my  mad  fancy  full  play ;  or  slay  me  if  you  will,  but  do 
not  say  that  I  mistake  your  meaning !  " 

"  I  shall  not  say  that,"  she  whispered,  almost  tenderly. 
"  For  a  long  year  you  have  sworn  that  you  loved  me." 

"  And  you  have  had  the  cruelty  to  jest  always  at  my  pas- 
sion." 

"  From  this  day  I  believe  in  your  love,  but  you  must  give 
me  a  proof  of  it.     Will  you  do  that  ?  " 

"  I  will,  Barbarina !  " 

"  Well,  then,  I  demand  no  giant  task,  no  herculean  labor ; 
there  is  no  rival  whom  you  must  murder!  I  demand  only 
that  you  shall  make  your  love  for  me  known  to  the  whole 
world.  Give  eclat  to  this  passion !  I  demand  that  with  head 
erect,  and  clear  untroubled  eye,  you  shall  give  the  world  a 
proof  of  this  love !  I  will  not  that  this  love  you  declare  to 
me  so  passionately  shall  be  hidden  under  a  veil  of  mystery 
and  silence.  I  demand  that  you  have  the  courage  to  let  the 
sun  in  the  heavens  and  the  eyes  of  men  look  down  into  your 
heart  and  read  your  secret,  and  that  no  quiver  of  the  eyelids, 
no  feeling  of  confusion  shall  shadow  your  countenance.  I 
will  that  to-DBDrrow  all  Berlin  shall  know  and  believe  that  the 
young  Councillor  Cocceji,  the  son  of  the  minister,  the  favor- 
ite of  the  king,  loves  the  Barbarina  ardently,  and  that  she 
returns  his  passion.  Berlin  must  know  that  this  is  no  cold, 
northern,  German,  phlegmatic  liking,  which  chills  the  blood 
in  the  veins  and  freezes  the  heart,  but  a  full,  ardent,  glowing 
passion,  animating  every  fibre  of  our  being — an  Italian  love, 
a  love  of  sunshine,  and  of  storm,  and  of  tempest." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     345 

Barbarina  was  wholly  irresistible ;  her  bearing  was  proud, 
her  eyes  sparkled,  her  face  beamed  with  energy  and  enthu- 
siasm. A  less  passionate  nature  than  that  of  Cocceji  would 
have  been  kindled  by  her  ardor,  would  have  been  carried 
away  by  her  energy. 

The  fiery  young  Cocceji  threw  himself  at  her  feet. 
"  Command  me !  my  name,  my  life,  my  hand,  are  yours ; 
only  love  me,  Barbarina,  and  I  will  be  proud  to  declare  how 
much  I  love  you ;  to  say  to  the  whole  world  this  is  my  bride, 
and  I  am  honored  and  happy  that  she  has  deigned  to  accept 
m^y  hand ! " 

"Of  this  another  time,"  said  Barbarina,  smiling;  "first 
prove  to  the  world  that  you  love  me.  This  evening  in  the 
theatre  give  some  public  evidence,  give  the  Berliners  some- 
thing to  talk  about :  then — then — "  said  she,  softly,  "  the  rest 
will  come  in  time." 


CHAPTEK  XVI. 

THE  DISTURBANCE  IN  THE  THEATRE. 

Duke  Algarotti  and  General  Eothenberg  returned  to 
the  castle  much  comforted  by  their  interview  with  Barba- 
rina. 

"  The  Barbarina  repents,  and  is  ready  to  take  the  first 
step  toward  reconciliation,"  said  Rothenberg;  "I  see  the 
end ;  I  will  go  at  once  and  order  my  cook  to  prepare  a  splen- 
did supper  for  the  evening." 

"  Do  not  be  hasty,"  said  Algarotti,  shaking  his  head ; 
"  you  may  give  your  cook  unnecessary  troubley«and  the  rich 
feast  might  be  cold  before  the  arrival  of  the  king." 

"  Do  you  believe  that  ?  " 

"  I  believe  that  for  a  summer  cloud  or  an  April  shower 
the  king  would  not  withdraw  himself  to  solitude  and  silence. 
It  is  no  passing  mood,  but  a  life  question  which  agitates 
him." 

"  The  door  has  not  been  opened  to-day ;  Fredersdorf  has 
repeatedly  begged  for  admittance." 


346  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

The  two  friends  stood  sad  and  irresolute  in  the  ante- 
room, alarmed  at  the  seclusion  and  silence  of  the  king.  Sud- 
denly the  door  leading  into  the  corridor  was  hastily  opened, 
and  a  man  of  commanding  and  elegant  appearance  stood 
upon  the  threshold ;  you  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  was  a  cavalier 
and  a  courtier,  while  his  glowing  cheek,  his  clear,  bright  eyes, 
and  jovial  smile  betrayed  the  man  of  pleasure  and  the  epi- 
cure. This  remarkable  man,  in  whom  every  one  who  looked 
upon  him  felt  confidence ;  ^hose  face,  in  spite  of  the  thousand 
wrinkles  which  fifty  years  of  an  active,  useful  life  had  laid 
upon  it,  still  retained  an  innocent,  amiable,  and  childlike  ex- 
pression— iJiis  man  was  the  Marquis  d'Argens,  the  true,  un- 
changeable, never-faltering  friend  of  the  king.  He  had 
consecrated  to  him  his  heart,  his  soul,  his  whole  being;  so 
great  was  his  reverence  for  his  royal  master,  that  the  letters 
received  from  him  were  always  read  standing.  The  marquis 
had  just  returned  from  Paris;  he  entered  the  anteroom  of 
the  king  with  a  gay  and  happy  smile,  impatient  and  eager  to 
see  his  beloved  master.  Without  looking  around,  he  hast- 
ened to  the  door  which  led  into  the  cabinet  of  the  king. 
Rothenberg  and  Algarotti  drew  near  to  him,  and  greeted  him 
joyously,  then  told  him  of  the  strange  seclusion  of  the  king. 
The  countenance  of  the  marquis  was  troubled,  and  his  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"  We  must  not  allow  this,"  he  said  decidedly ;  "  I  will 
kneel  before  the  door,  and  pray  and  plead  till  the  noble  heart 
of  the  king  is  reached,  and  he  will  have  pity  with  our  anxiety. 
Go,  Fredersdorf,  and  announce  me  to  his  majesty." 

"  Sire,"  said  Fredersdorf,  knocking  on  the  door,  "  sire, 
the  Marquis  d'Argens  is  here  and  begs  for  admittance." 

1^0  answer  was  given. 

"  Oh,  sire,"  said  the  marquis,  "be  merciful;  have  con- 
sideration for  my  eagerness  to  see  you  after  so  long  an  ab- 
sence ;  I  have  travelled  day  and  night  in  order  to  enjoy  that 
happiness  a  few  hours  sooner.  I  wish  to  warm  and  solace 
myself  in  the  sunshine  of  your  glance;  be  gracious,  and 
allow  me  to  enter." 

A  breathless  silence  followed  this  earnest  entreaty.  At 
last  the  door  was  shaken,  a  bolt  was  drawn  back,  and  the  kinif 
appeared  on  the  threshold.    He  was  pale,  but  of  that  clepr 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    347 

and  transparent  pallor  which  has  nothing  in  common  with 
the  sallow  hue  of  physical  weakness;  there  was  no  trace  of 
nervous  excitement.  Smiling,  and  with  calm  dignity,  he 
approached  his  friends. 

"  Welcome,  marquis,  most  welcome !  may  joy  and  happi- 
ness crown  your  return !  No  doubt  you  have  much  to  relate 
to  us  of  your  wild  and  impudent  countrymen,  and  I  see  that 
Kothenberg  and  Algarotti  are  burning  with  curiosity  to  hear 
an  account  of  your  love  adventures  and  rendezvous  with  your 
new-baked  and  glowing  duchesses  and  princesses." 

"  Ah,  your  majesty,  he  approached  me  with  the  proud 
mien  of  a  conqueror,"  said  Kothenberg,  gladly  entering  into 
the  jesting  humor  of  the  king.  "  We  are  more  than  ready 
to  believe  in  the  triumphs  of  the  marquis  at  the  court  of 
Louis  the  Fifteenth." 

"  The  marquis  has  done  wisely  if  he  has  left  his  heart  in 
Paris,"  said  Algarotti.  "  Your  majesty  knows  that  he  suf- 
fers greatly  with  heart  disease,  and  every  girl  whom  he  does 
not  exactly  know  to  be  a  rogue,  he  believes  to  be  an  angel  of 
innocence." 

"  You  know,"  said  Kothenberg,  "  that  shortly  before  his 
journey,  his  house-keeper  stole  his  service  of  silver.  The 
marquis  promised  to  give  her  the  worth  of  the  silver  if  she 
would  discover  the  thief  and  restore  it.  She  brought  it 
back  immediately,  and  the  marquis  not  only  paid  her  the 
promised  sum,  but  gave  her  a  handsome  reward  for  her 
adroitness  in  discovering  the  robber.  As  D'Argens  triumph- 
antly related  this  affair  to  me,  I  dared  to  make  the  remai'k 
that  the  housekeeper  was  herself  the  rogue,  the  good  marquis 
was  as  much  exasperated  with  me  as  if  I  had  dared  to  charge 
him  with  theft !  '  Have  more  reverence  for  women,'  said  he 
to  me,  gravely ;  '  to  complain  of,  or  accuse  a  woman,  is  a 
crime  against  God  and  Nature.  Women  are  virtuous  and 
noble  when  not  misled,  and  I  cannot  see  who  could  have 
tempted  my  good  house-keeper ;  she  is,  therefore,  innocent.' " 

All  laughed  heartily,  but  D'Argens,  who  cast  his  eyes  to 
the  ground,  looking  somewhat  ashamed.  But  the  king  ad- 
vanced, and  laying  both  hands  upon  the  shoulders  of  the 
marquis,  he  looked  into  the  kindly,  genial  face  with  an  ex- 
preeaioD  of  indescribable  love  and  confidence. 


348  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  He  has  the  heart  of  a  child,  the  intellect  of  a  sage,  and 
the  imagination  of  a  poet,  by  the  grace  of  God,"  said  the 
king.  "  If  all  men  were  like  him,  this  earth  would  be  no 
vale  of  tears,  but  a  glorious  paradise !  It  is  a  real  happiness 
to  me  to  have  you  here,  my  dear  D'Argens.  You  shall  take 
the  place  of  the  Holy  Father,  and  bless  and  consecrate  a 
small  spot  of  earth  for  me.  With  your  pure  lips  you  shall 
pray  to  the  house  gods  for  their  blessing  and  protection  on 
my  hearth,  and  beseech  them  to  pour  a  little  joy  and  mirth 
into  the  cup  of  wormwood  and  gall  which  this  poor  life 
presses  to  our  lips.  My  palace  of  Weinberg,  near  Potsdam, 
is  finished.  I  will  drive  you  there  to-day — you  alone,  mar- 
quis !  As  for  the  others,  they  are  light-minded,  audacious, 
suspicious  children  of  men,  and  they  shall  not  so  soon 
poison  the  air  in  my  little  paradise  with  their  levities.  You 
alone,  D'Argens,  are  worthy.  You  are  pure  as  those  who 
lived  before  the  fall.  You  have  never  tasted  of  the  ominous 
and  death-giving  apple.  You  will  go  with  me,  then,  to  Wein- 
berg, and  when  you  have  consecrated  it,  you  shall  relate  to 
me  the  chronique  scandaleuse  of  the  French  court.  Now, 
however,  I  must  work! — Fredersdorfj  are  my  ministers 
here?" 

"  Sire,  they  have  been  an  hour  in  the  bureau." 

"  Who  is  in  the  anteroom  ?  " 

"  Baron  Swartz,  with  the  repertoire  of  the  week." 

"  Ah !  Swartz,"  said  the  king,  thoughtfully,  "  let  him 
enter." 

Fredersdorf  hastened  to  summon  the  director,  and  the 
king  recommenced  his  careless  conversation  with  his  friends. 
As  the  baron  entered,  the  king  stepped  forward  to  meet  him, 
and  took  a  paper  from  his  hand.  He  read  it  with  seeming 
indifference,  but  his  lips  were  compressed  and  his  brow 
clouded. 

"  Who  will  dance  the  solo  this  evening  in  Re  Pastore  f  " 
he  said,  at  last. 

"  Signora  Barbarina,  your  majesty." 

"  Ah !  the  Signora  Barbarina,"  said  the  king,  carelessly. 
"  I  thought  I  heard  that  she  was  indisposed  ?  " 

Frederick's  eyes  were  fixed  searchingly  upon  his  friends. 
He  perhaps  suspected  the  truth,  and  thought  it  natural  that, 


FREDERICK    THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    349 

in  the  disquiet  of  their  hearts,  they  had  sought  an  explana- 
tion of  Barbarina. 

"  Sire,"  said  Rothenberg,  "  Signora  Barbarina  has  en- 
tirely recovered.  Algarotti  and  myself  made  her  a  visit 
this  morning,  and  she  commissioned  us,  if  your  majesty 
should  be  gracious  enough  to  ask  for  her,  to  say  that  she 
was  well  and  happy." 

The  king  made  no  reply.  He  walked  thoughtfully  back- 
ward and  forward,  then  stood  before  D'Argens,  and  said,  in 
a  kindly  tone:  "You  are  so  great  an  enthusiast  for  the 
stage  that  it  would  be  cruel  to  take  you  to  Weinberg  this 
evening.  We  will  go  to  the  theatre  and  see  Barbarina  dance, 
and  to-morrow  you  shall  consecrate  my  house;  and  now, 
adieu,  gentlemen — I  must  work!  You  will  be  my  guests 
at  dinner,  and  will  accompany  me  to  the  theatre." 

The  king  entered  his  ^tudy.  "  She  defies  me,"  said  he 
lightly  to  himself.  "  She  will  prove  to  me  that  she  is  indif- 
ferent. Well,  so  be  it;  I  will  also  show  that  I  have  recov- 
ered!" 

The  theatre  was  at  last  opened.  A  brilliant  assembly 
filled  the  first  range  of  boxes,  and  the  parquet.  The  sec- 
ond tier  and  the  parterre  were  occupied  by  the  burghers, 
merchants,  and  their  wives  and  daughters,  who  were  waiting 
with  joyful  impatience  for  the  commencement  of  the  per- 
formance. The  brilliant  court  circle,  howeyer,  was  ab- 
sorbed by  other  interests.  A  murmur  had  spread  abroad 
that  "  the  Barbarina  had  fallen  into  disgrace  and  lost  for- 
ever the  favor  of  the  king."  The  wild  despair  of  the  beauti- 
ful dancer  was  spoken  of,  and  there  were  some  who  declared 
that  she  had  made  an  attempt  to  take  her  life.  Others  as- 
serted that  she  had  sworn  never  again  to  appear  on  the  Ber- 
lin stage,  and  that  she  would  assuredly  feign  illness  in  order 
not  to  dance.  All  were  looking  anxiously  for  the  rising  of 
the  curtain,  and  toward  the  side  door  through  which  the  king 
and  his  suite  were  accustomed  to  enter. 

At  last  the  door  opened ;  the  drums  and  trumpets  sounded 
merrily;  the  king  entered,  and  walked  with  calm  composure 
to  his  chair.  The  bell  rang,  the  curtain  rolled  up,  and  the 
ballet  began. 

There  was  at  first  a  dance  of  shepherds,  and  shepherd- 


350  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OB, 

esses,  then  an  interruption  by  fauns  and  satyrs,  who  inteiv 
mingled  in  groups  with  the  first  dancers  and  ranged  them- 
selves on  the  side  of  the  stage,  waiting  for  the  appearance  of 
the  shepherd  queen.  There  was  a  breathless  pause — erery 
eye  but  the  king's  was  fixed  upon  the  stage. 

And  now  there  was  an  outburst  of  admiration  and  en- 
thusiasm. Yes,  there  she  was;  rosy,  glowing,  perfumed, 
tender,  enchanting,  and  intoxicating,  she  floated  onward  in 
her  robe  of  silver.  Her  magical  smile  disclosed  her  small, 
pearly  teeth  and  laughing  dimples;  her  great,  mysterious 
black  eyes  understood  the  art  of  flattery  and  of  menace; 
in  both  they  were  irresistible.  ISToiselessly  she  floated  on- 
ward to  the  front  of  the  stage.  Xow,  with  indescribable 
grace,  she  bowed  her  body  backward,  and  standing  on  tip- 
toe she  raised  her  rounded  arms  high  over  her  head,  and 
looked  upward,  with  a  sweet  smile,  to  a  wreath  of  roses  which 
she  held. 

"  Wondrous,  most  wondrous ! "  cried  suddenly  a  full, 
clear  voice.  It  was  the  young  state  councillor.  Von  Cocceji, 
who  sat  in  the  proscenium  box  near  the  stage,  and  gazed  with 
beaming  eyes  on  Barbdrina. 

Barbarina  turned  toward  him,  and  smiled  sweetly.  The 
king  frowned,  and  played  rather  fiercely  with  his  snuff-box. 

"  Wondrous  I  "  repeated  Cocceji,  and  threw  a  threatening, 
scornful  glance  upon  a  thin,  wan  young  man  who  sat  near 
him,  and  who  dared,  in  a  small,  weak  voice  to  repeat  tl^e 
"  wondrous  "  of  the  young  athlete.  "  I  pray  you,  sir,  to  re- 
frain from  the  expression  of  your  applause,  or,  if  that  is  im- 
possible, choose  your  own  words,  and  not  mine  to  convey  your 
approbation,"  said  the  six-footed  giant,  Cocceji,  to  his  pallid 
neighbor. 

The  latter  looked  with  a  sort  of  horror  at  the  broad- 
shouldered,  muscular  figure  before  him,  and  scarcely  daring 
to  breathe  loudly,  he  looked  with  wide-open,  staring  eyes  at 
Barbarina,  who  was  now  floating  with  enchanting  grace 
upon  the  stage.  The  audience  had  entirely  forgotten  the 
vague  rumors  of  the  day — thought  no  more  of  the  king. 
Their  attention  was  wholly  given  to  Barbarina  and  Cocceji, 
whose  eyes  were  ever  fixed  threateningly  upon  his  shrinking 
neighbor.    Suddenly,  just  as  Barbarina  had  completed  one 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    35I 

of  her  most  difficult  tours  and  knelt  before  the  lamps  to  re- 
ceive the  bravos  of  the  spectators,  something  flew  from  the 
loge  of  Cocceji,  and  fell  exactly  at  Barbarina's  feet. 

This  offering  was  no  wreath  or  bouquet  of  flowers,  no 

costly  gem,  but  a  man,  a  poor,  panting,  terrified  man,  who 

did  not  yet  comprehend  how  he  came  to  make  this  rapid 

I  journey  through  the  air,  nor  why  Cocccji  with  his  giant  hand 

k  had  seized  him  and  dashed  him  upon  the  stage. 

Confused  and  terrified,  the  poor  bruised  youth  lay  for 
some  moments  motionless  at  the  feet  of  Barbarina;  then 
gathering  himself  up  and  bowing  profoundly  to  the  king, 
who  regarded  him  in  fierce  silence,  he  said  aloud :  "  Sire,  I 
pray  for  pardon ;  I  am  not  to  blame ;  Cocceji  forbade  me,  in 
a  proud,  commanding  tone,  to  look  upon  the  Signora  Barba- 
rina. As  I  did  not  choose  to  obey  this  arbitrary  order,  he 
seized  me  without  warning,  and  dashed  me  at  the  feet  of  the 
signora."  *  The  public,  recovering  from  their  astonish- 
ment, began  to  whisper,  laugh  merrily,  and  gaze  ironically  at 
the  young  man,  who  stood  humble  and  wan  near  Barbarina; 
while  Cocceji,  turning  his  bold,  daring  face  to  the  audience, 
seemed  to  threaten  every  man  who  looked  upon  him  ques- 
tioningly.  The  orchestra  was  silent.  Barbarina  stood  ra- 
diant in  grace  and  beauty,  and  smiled  bewitchingly  upon 
Cocceji. 

"  Go  on,"  said  suddenly  the  clear,  commanding  voice  of 
the  king,  as  he  nodded  to  the  poor  youth,  who  disappeared 
behind  the  curtain.  "  Go  on,"  said  the  king  again.  The 
music  commenced,  and  Barbarina,  raising  her  garland  of 
roses,  swam  like  an  elf  over  the  boards.  The  audience 
thought  not  of  her  grace  and  beauty.  They  were  wholly 
occupied  with  this  curious  adventure ;  they  had  forgotten  her 
disgrace.  They  thought  only  of  Cocceji's  passionate  love, 
and  declared  he  was  jealous  as  a  Turk.  So  Barbarina  had 
gained  her  purpose. 

*  MGchler's  "History  of  Frederick  the  Great" 


352  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

SANS-SOUCI. 

Early  the  next  morning  a  plain,  simple  equipage  stood  at 
the  gate  of  the  new  park  in  Potsdam.  The  king  and  the 
Marquis  D'Argens  entered  the  carriage  alone.  Frederick  re- 
fused all  other  attendance ;  even  his  servants  were  forbidden 
to  accompany  him. 

When  the  carriage  stopped  he  opened  the  door  himself, 
and  springing  lightly  out,  offered  his  arm  .to  his  older  and 
less  agile  friend.  The  marquis  blushed  like  a  young  girl, 
and  wished  to  decline  this  offered  service  of  the  king. 

Frederick,  however,  insisted  upon  giving  his  assistance, 
and  said,  smiling :  "  Forget,  D'Argens,  for  this  day,  that  I 
am  a  king;  grant  me  the  pleasure  of  passing  the  time  with 
you  without  ceremony,  as  friend  with  friend.  Come,  mar- 
quis, enter  my  paradise,  and  I  pray  you  to  encourage  a  sol- 
emn and  prayerful  mood." 

"  Do  you  know,  sire,  I  have_  a  feeling  of  oppression  and 
exaltation  combined,  such  a3  the  Grecians  may  have  felt 
when  they  entered  the  Delphian  valley  ? "  said  D'Argens, 
as  arm  in  arm  with  the  king  they  sauntered  through  the 
little  shady  side  allee  which  the  king  had  expressly  chosen 
in  order  to  surprise  the  marquis  with  the  unexpected  view 
of  the  beautifid  height  upon  which  the  castle  was  erected. 

"  Well,  I  believe  that  many  oracles  will  go  out  from  this 
height  to  the  world,"  said  Frederick ;  "  but  they  shall  be  less 
obscure,  shall  bear  no  double  meaning;  shall  not  be  partly 
false,  shall  contain  great  shining  truths.  I  also,  dear 
D'Argens,  feel  inspired,  I  seem  to  see  floating  before  me 
through  the  trees  a  majestic,  gigantic  form  of  air,  with  up- 
lifted arm  beckoning  me  to  follow  her.  That  is  the  spirit  of 
the  world's  history,  marquis;  she  carries  her  golden  book  on 
her  arm;  in  her  right  hand,  with  which  she  beckons  me, 
she  holds  the  diamond  point  with  which  she  will  engrave  my 
name  and  this  consecrated  spot  upon  her  tables.  Therefore, 
my  holy  father  and  priest,  I  have  brought  you  here  to  bap- 
tize my  Weinberg.  Come,  friend,  that  form  of  air  beckong 
once  more;  she  awaits  the  baptism  with  impatience." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    353 

And  now  they  passed  from  the  little  allee  and  entered  the 
great  avenue;  an  expression  of'  admiration  burst  from  the 
lips  of  the  marquis ;  with  flashing  eyes  he  gazed  around  upon 
the  magnificent  and  enchanting  scene.  Here,  just  before 
them,  was  the  grand  basin  of  marble,  surrounded  with  groups 
of  marble  statues;  farther  off  the  lofty  terraces,  adorned 
with  enormous  orange-trees,  rustling  their  glossy  leaves  and 
pearly  blossoms  in  the  morning  breeze,  greeting  their  king 
with  their  intoxicating  fragrance.  Upon  the  top  of  these 
superb  terraces,  between  groups  of  marble  forms  and  laugh- 
ing cascades,  stood  the  little  castle  of  Weinberg,  beautiful  in 
its  simplicity;  upon  its  crntral  -upola  stood  a  golden  crown, 
which  sparkled  and  glittered  in  the  sunshine. 

The  king  pointed  to  the  irown.  "Look,"  said  he,  "how 
it  flashes  in  the  sun,  and  throws  its  shadow  upon  all  beneath 
it :  so  is  it,  or  may  it  be,  with  my  whole  life !  May  my 
crown  and  ray  reign  be  glorious !  " 

~  The  marquis  pressed  his  hand  tenderly.  "  They  will  be 
great  and  glorious  through  all  time,"  said  he.  "  Your  grand- 
children and  your  great-grandchildren  will  speak  of  the  lus- 
tre which  played  upon  that  crown,  and  when  they  speak  of 
Prussia's  greatness  they  will  say :  "  When  Frederick  the 
Second  lived,  the  earth  was  glad  with  light  and  sunshine.'  " 

Arm  in  arm,  and  silently,  they  mounted  the  marble  steps 
of  the  terrace.  Deep,  holy  silence  surrounded  them,  the 
cascades  prattled  softly.  The  tops  of  the  tall  trees  which 
bordered  the  terrace  bowed  and  whispered  lowly  with  the 
winds;  here  and  there  was  heard  the  melodious  note  of  a 
bird.  No  noise  of  the  mad  world,  no  discord  interrupted 
this  holy  peace  of  nature.  They  seemed  to  have  left  the 
world  behind  them,  and  with  solemn  awe  to  enter  upon  a  new 
existence. 

ISTow  they  had  reached  the  height;  they  turned  and 
looked  back  xipon  the  beautiful  panorama  which  lay  at  their 
feet.  The  luxurious  freshness,  the  artistic  forms,  the  blue 
and  graceful  river  winding  through  the  wooded  heights  and 
green  valleys,  formed  an  enchanting  spectacle. 

"  Is  not  this  heavenly  ? "  said  Frederick,  and  his  face  i 
glowed  with  enjoyment.  "  Can  we  not  rest  here  in  peace,  | 
away  from  all  the  sorrows  and  sufferings  of  this  world  ? " 


354  SEliLW  AKD  SAJfS-SOtTCI;  0% 

"  This  is,  indeed,  a  paradise,"  cried  the  marquis.  Hd 
spread  out  his  arms  in  ecstasy,  as  if  he  would  clasp  the  "whole 
lovely  picture  to  his  breast ;  then,  turning  his  eyes  to  heaven, 
he  exclaimed,  "  O  God !  grant  that  my  king  may  be  happy  in 
this  consecrated  spot !  " 

'^Happyf"  repeated  Frederick,  with  a  slight  shrug. 
"  Say  content,  marquis.  I  believe  that  is  the  highest  point 
any  man  attains  upon  this  earth.  And  now  let  us  enter  the 
house." 

He  took  the  arm  of  the  marquis,  and  then  stepped  over 
the  golden  sand  to  the  large  glass  door  which  led  to  the  round 
saloon.  As  Frederick  opened  the  door  he  fixed  his  great  blue 
eyes  steadily  upon  D'Argens. 

"  Pray !  marquis,  pray !  we  stand  upon  the  threshold  of 
a  new  existence,  which  now  opens  her  mysterious  portals 
to  us." 

"  Sire,  my  every  thought  is  a  prayer  for  you  at  this  mo- 
ment." 

They  entered  the  oblong  saloon. 

"  This  is  the  room  which  separates  me  from  my  friends," 
said  the  king.  "  This  side  of  the  house  I  will  dwell ;  that 
side  is  for  the  use  of  my  friends,  above  all  others,  dear  mar- 
quis, for  you.  In  this  saloon  we  will  meet  together,  and  here 
will  be  mj symposium.  Now  I  will  show  you  my  own  room, 
then  the  others." 

In  the  reception-room,  which  was  adorned  with  taste  and 
splendor,  Frederick  remained  but  a  few  moments ;  he  scarce- 
ly allowed  his  artistic  friend  a  fleeting  glance  at  the  superb 
pictures  which  hung  upon  the  walls,  and  for  the  selection  of 
which  he  had  sent  the  merchant,  Gotzkowsky,  several  times 
to  Italy;  he  gave  him  no  time  to  look  upon  the  statues  and 
vases  of  the  Poniatowsken  Gallery,  for  which  four  hundred 
thousand  thalers  had  been  paid,  but  hurried  him  along. 

"You  must  first  see  my  woi'k-room,"  said  Frederick; 
"  afterward  we  will  examine  the  rest." 

He  opened  the  door  and  conducted  the  marquis  into  the 
round  library  which  had  no  other  adorning  than  that  of 
books;  they  stood  arrayed  in  lofty  cases  around  this  temple 
of  intellect,  of  art,  and  science,  and  even  the  door  through 
which  they  had  entered,  and  which  the  king  had  lightly 


FREDBRlCt  Tfit3  GREAT  AND  fllS  FKIENBS.    355 

pressed  back,  had  now  entirely  disappeared  behind  the  books, 
with  which  it  was  cunningly  covered  on  the  inside. 

"You  see,"  said  Frederick,  "he  who  enters  into  this 
magic  circle  is  confined  for  life.  He  cannot  get  out,  and  I 
will  have  it  so.  With  this  day  begins  a  new  existence  for  me, 
D'Argens.  When  I  crossed  the  threshold,  the  past  fell  from 
me  like  an  over-ripe  fruit." 

Frederick's  face  was  sad,  his  eye  clouded;  with  a  light 
sigh  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  marquis  and 
looked  at  him  long  and  silently. 

"  I  wish  to  tell  you  a  secret,"  said  he  at  last.  "  I  believe 
my  heart  died  yesterday,  and  I  confess  to  you  the  death- 
struggle  was  hard.  Xow  it  is  past,  but  the  place  where  my 
heart  once  beat  is  sore,  and  bleeds  yet  from  a  thousand 
wounds.  They  will  heal  at  last,  and  then  I  shall  be  a  hard 
and  hardened  man.    We  will  speak  no  more  of  it." 

"  Ko,  sire,  wd  shall  not  say  that  you  will  ever  be  hard- 
ened," cried  D'Argens,  deeply  moved.  "  You  dare  not  slan- 
der your  heart  and  say  that  it  is  dead.  It  beats,  and  will 
ever  beat  for  youf  friends,  for  the  whole  world,  for  all  that 
is  great,  and  glorious,  and  exalted." 

"  Only  no  longer  for  love,"  said  the  king ;  "  that  is  a 
withered  rose  which  I  have  cast  from  me.  The  roses  of  love 
are  not  in  harmony  with  thrones  or  crowns;  they  grow  too 
high  and  climb  over,  or  their  soft  rosy  leaves  are  crushed. 
I  owe  it  to  my  people  to  keep  myself  free  from  all  chains 
and  make  my  reign  glorious.  I  will  never  give  them  occa- 
sion to  say  that  I  have  been  an  idle  and  self-indulgent  sa- 
vant. I  dedicate  to  Prussia  my  strength  and  my  life.  But 
here,  friend,  here  in  my  cloister,  which,  like  the  Convent  of 
the  Carmelites,  shall  never  be  desecrated  by  a  woman's  foot ; 
here  we  will,  from  time  to  time,  forget  all  the  pomps  and 
glories  of  the  world,  and  all  its  vanities.  Here,  upon  my 
Weinberg,  I  will  not  be  a  king,  but  a  friend  and  a  philoso- 
pher." 

"  And  a  poet,"  said  D'Argens,  in  loving  tones.  "  I  will 
now  recall  a  couplet  to  the  poet-king,  which  he  once  repeated 
to  me,  when  I  was  melancholy — almost  hopeless : 

'  Nous  avons  deux  moments  a  vivre ; 
Qu'il  en  soit  un  pour  le  plaisir.' " 
33 


356  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCl;  OR, 

"  Can  you  believe  that  we  have  not  already  exhausted  this 
moment  ? "  said  Frederick,  with  a  sad  smile.  Then,  after 
a  short  pause,  his  face  lightened  and  his  eye  glowed  with  its 
wonted  fire;  a  gay  resolve  was  written  in  his  countenance. 
"  Well,  let  us  try,  marquis,  if  you  are  right ;  let  us  seek  to 
extend  this  moment  as  long  as  possible,  and  when  death 
comes — 

Finissons  sans  trouble,  et  mourons  sans  regrets, 
En  laissant  I'univers,  couibl6  de  nos  bienfaita. 
Ainsi  I'astre  du  jour  au  bout  de  sa  carriere, 
Kepand  sur  I'horizon  une  douce  lumiere, 
Et  les  derniers  rayons  qu'il  darde  dans  les  airs, 
Sont  ses  derniers  soupirs  qu'il  donne  a  I'univers." 

The  marquis  listened  with  rapture  to  this  improvised 
poem  of  the  king.  When  it  was  concluded,  the  fiery  Proven- 
gal  called  out,  in  an  ecstasy  of  enthusiasm :  "  You  are  not  a 
mere  mortal,  sire;  you  are  a  king — a  hero — yes,  a  demi- 
god!" 

"  I  will  show  you  something  to  disprove  your  flattering 
words,"  said  Frederick,  smiling.  "  Look  out,  dear  D'Argens ; 
what  do  you  see,  there,  directly  opposite  to  the  window  ?  " 

"  Does  your  majesty  mean  that  beautiful  statue  in 
marble?" 

"  Yes,  marquis.     What  do  you  suppose  that  to  be  ?  " 

"  That,  sire  ?     It  is  a  reclining  statue  of  Flora." 

"  No,  D'Argens ;  that  is  my  grave !  " 

"  Your  grave,  sire  ?  "  said  the  marquis,  shuddering ;  "  and 
you  have  had  it  placed  exactly  before  the  window  of  your 
favorite  study? " 

"  Exactly  there ;  that  I  may  keep  death  always  in  re- 
membrance  !    Come,  marquis,  we  will  draw  nearer." 

They  left  the  house,  and  advanced  to  the  Rondel,  where 
the  superb  statue  of  Flora  was  reclining. 

"  There,  under  this  marble  form,  is  the  vault  in  which  I 
shall  lie  down  to  sleep,"  said  Frederick.  "  I  began  my  build- 
ing at  Weinberg  with  this  vault.  But  it  is  a  profound 
secret;  guard  it  well,  also,  dear  friend!  The  living  have 
a  holy  horror  of  death;  it  is  not  well  to  speak  of  graves  or 
death  lightly !  " 

D'Argen's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears.    "  Oh,  sire !  may 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     357 

this  marble  lie  immovable,  and  the  grave  beneath  it  be  a 
mystery  for  many  long  years !  " 

The  king  shook  his  head  lightly,  and  a  heavenly  peace 
was  written  on  his  features.  "  Why  do  you  wish  that  ? '' 
said  he.  Then  pointing  to  the  grave,  he  said :  "  When  I  lie 
there — Je  serais  sans  souci  /  "  * 

"  Sans  souci ! "  repeated  D'Argens,  in  low  tones,  deeply 
moved,  and  staring  at  the  vault. 

The  king  took  his  hand  smilingly.  "  Let  us  seek,  even 
while  we  live,  to  be  sans  souci,  and  as  evidence  that  I  will 
strive  for  this,  this  house  shall  be  called  Sans-Souci  !  '  " 

*  Nicolai,  "  Anecdotes  of  King  Frederick." 


BOOK  lY. 
CHAPTER  I. 

THE  PROMISE. 

It  was  a  lovely  summer  day.  The  whole  earth  seemed  to 
look  up  with  a  smile  of  faith,  love,  and  happiness  into  the 
clear,  blue  heavens,  whose  mysterious  depths  give  promise  of 
a  brighter  and  better  future.  Sunshine  and  clouds  were  mir- 
rored in  the  rapid  river  and  murmuring  brook;  the  stately 
trees  and  odorous  flowers  bowed  with  the  gentle  west  wind, 
and  gave  a  love-greeting  to  the  glorious  vault  above. 

Upon  the  terrace  of  Sans-Souci  stood  the  king,  and 
looked  admiringly  upon  the  lovely  panorama  spread  out  at 
his  feet.  Nature  and  art  combined  to  make  this  spot  a 
paradise.  The  king  was  alone  at  the  palace  of  Sans- 
Souci;  for  a  few  happy  hours  he  had  laid  aside  the  burden 
and  pomp  of  royalty.  He  was  now  the  scholar,  the  philoso- 
pher, the  sage,  and  the  friend;  in  one  word,  he  was  what  he 
loved  to  call  himself,  the  genial  abbot  of  Sans-Souci. 

At  the  foot  of  the  romantic  hill  upon  which  his  palace 
was  built  Frederick  laid  aside  the  vain  pomp  and  glory  of 
the  world,  and  with  them  all  its  petty  cares  and  griefs. 
With  every  step  upon  the  terrace  his  countenance  lightened 
and  his  breath  came  more  freely.  He  had  left  the  valley  of 
tears  and  ascended  the  holy  mountain.  Repose  and  purity 
were  around  him,  and  he  felt  nearer  the  God  of  creation. 

Sans-Souci,  now  glittering  in  the  sunshine,  seemed  to 
greet  and  cheer  him.  These  two  laconic  but  expressive 
words,  sans  souci,  smoothed  the  lines  which  the  crown  and  its 
duties  had  laid  upon  his  brow,  and  made  his  heart,  which  was 
so  cold  and  weary,  beat  with  the  hopes  and  strength  of  youth  I 

358 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    359 

He  was  himself  again,  the  warrior,  the  sage,  the  loving  ruler, 
the  juat  king,  the  philanthropist,  the  faithful,  fond  friend; 
the  gay,  witty,  sarcastic  companion,  who  felt  himself  most 
at  home,  most  happy,  in  the  society  of  scholars,  artists,  and 
writers. 

Genius  was  for  Frederick  an  all-sufficient  diploma,  and 
those  who  possessed  it  were  joyfully  received  at  his  court. 
If,  from  time  to  time,  he  granted  a  coat-of-arms  or  a  duke's 
diadem  to  those  nobles,  "  by  the  Grace  of  God,"  it  was  not  so 
much  to  do  them  honor  as  to  exalt  his  courtiers  by  placing 
among  them  the  great  and  intellectual  spirits  of  his  time. 
He  had  made  Algarotti  and  Chazot  dukes,  and  Bielfield  a 
baron;  he  had  sent  to  Voltaire  the  keys  of  the  wardrobe,  in 
order  that  the  chosen  friend  of  the  philosopher  of  Sans- 
Souci  might  without  a  shock  to  etiquette  be  also  the  com- 
panion of  the  King  of  Prussia  in  his  more  princely  castles, 
and  belong  to  the  circle  of  prince,  and  princess,  and  noble. 

When  Frederick  entered  Sans-Souci  he  laid  aside  all 
prejudices  and  all  considerations  of  rank.  He  wished  to 
forget  that  he  was  king,  and  desired  his  friends  also  to 
forget  it,  and  to  show  him  only  that  consideration  which  is 
due  to  the  man  of  genius  and  of  letters.  Some  of  his  friends 
had  abused  this  privilege,  and  Frederick  had  been  forced  to 
humiliate  them.  There  were  others  who  never  forgot  at 
Bans-Bouei  the  respect  and  reverence  due  to  the  royal  house. 
Amongst  these  was  his  ever-devoted,  ever-uniform  friend, 
the  Marquis  d'Argens.  He  loved  him,  not  because  he  was 
king,  but  because  he  believed  him  to  be  the  greatest,  best, 
most  exalted  of  men.  In  the  midst  of  his  brilliant  court 
circle  and  all  his  earthly  pomp,  D'Argens  did  not  forget  that 
Frederick  was  a  man  of  letters,  and  his  dear  friend ;  even  so, 
while  enjoying  the  hospitalities  of  Sans-Souci,  he  remem- 
bered always  that  the  genial  scholar  and  gentleman  was  a 
great  and  powerful  king. 

Frederick  had  the  greatest  confidence  in  D'Argens,  and 
granted  him  more  privileges  than  any  other  of  his  friends. 
Frederick  invited  many  friends  to  visit  him  during  the  day, 
but  the  marquis  was  the  only  guest  whose  bedchamber  was 
arranged  for  him  at  Sans-Souci. 

Four   years   have   elapsed   since   D'Argens   consecrated 


360  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

Weinberg — since  the  day  in  which  we  closed  our  last  chapter. 
We  take  advantage  of  the  liberty  allowed  to  authors,  and 
pass  over  these  four  years  and  recommence  our  story  in  1750, 
the  year  which  historians  are  accustomed  to  consider  the 
most  glorious  and  happy  in  the  life  of  Frederick  the  Second. 
We  all  know,  alas !  that  earthly  happiness  resembles  the 
purple  rose,  which,  even  while  rejoicing  the  heart  with  her 
beauty  and  fragrance,  wounds  us  with  her  thorns.  We  know 
that  the  sunshine  makes  the  flowers  bloom  in  the  gardens, 
on  the  breezy  mountains,  and  also  on  the  graves;  when  we 
pluck  and  wear  these  roses,  who  can  decide  if  we  are  in- 
fluenced by  joy  in  the  present  or  sad  remembrances  of  the 
past? 

Frederick  the  Great  appeared  to  be  gay  and  happy,  but 
these  four  years  had  not  passed  away  without  leaving  a 
mark  upon  his  brow  and  a  shadow  on  his  heart;  his  youthful 
smile  had  vanished,  and  the  expression  of  his  lip  was  stern 
and  resolved.  He  was  now  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  and 
was  still  a  handsome  man,  but  the  sunshine  of  life  had  left 
him;  his  eyes  could  flash  and  threaten  like  Jove's,  but  the 
soft  and  loving  glance  was  quenched.  Like  Polycrates, 
King  Frederick,  in  order  to  propitiate  fate,  had  sacrificed  his 
idol.  He  had  thus  lost  his  rarest  jewel,  had  become  poor  in 
love.  Perhaps  his  crown  rested  more  firmly  upon  his  head, 
but  his  heart  had  received  an  almost  mortal  wound;  it  had 
healed,  but  he  was  hardened ! 

Frederick  thought  not  of  the  past  four  years,  and  their 
griefs  and  losses,  as  he  stood  now  upon  the  terrace  of  Sans- 
Souci,  illuminated  by  the  evening  sun,  and  gazed  with  rav- 
ished eyes  upon  the  panorama  spread  out  before  him. 

"  Beautiful,  wondrous  beautiful ! "  he  said  to  himself. 
"  I  think  Voltaire  will  find  that  the  sun  is  even  as  warm 
and  cheering  at  Sans-Souci  as  at  Cirey,  and  that  we  can 
be  gay  and  happy  without  the  presence  of  the  divine 
Emilie,  who  enters  one  moment  with  her  children,  and  the 
next  with  her  learned  and  abstruse  books.*    Ah!  I  wish 

*  Voltaire  lived  for  ten  years  in  Cirey  with  his  friend  the  Marquise  Emili* 
de  Chktelet  Samont,  a  very  learned  lady,  to  whom  he  was  much  devoted.  He 
had  refused  all  Frederick's  invitationB  because  he  was  unwilling  to  be  sepa- 
rated from  this  lady.  After  twenty  years  of  marriage,  in  the  year  1749,  the 
countess  gave  birth  to  her  first  child ;  two  hours  af^er  the  birth  of  her  sod, 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT   AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     361 

he  were  here;  so  long  as  I  do  not  see  him,  I  doubt  if  he 
will  come." 

At  this  moment  the  king  saw  the  shadow  of  a  manly 
figure  thrown  upon  the  terrace,  which  the  evening  sun  length- 
ened into  a  giant's  stature.  He  turned  and  greeted  the 
Marquis  d'Argens,  who  had  just  entered,  with  a  gracious 
smile. 

"You  are  indeed  kind,  marquis,"  said  Frederick;  "you 
have  returned  from  Berlin  so  quickly,  I  think  Love  must 
have  lent  you  a  pair  of  wings." 

"  Certainly,  Love  lent  me  his  wings ;  the  little  god  knew 
that  your  majesty  was  the  object  of  my  greatest  admiration, 
and  that  I  wished  to  fly  to  your  feet  and  shake  out  from  my 
horn  of  plenty  the  novelties  and  news  of  the  day." 

"There  is  something  new,  then?"  said  the  king.  "I 
have  done  well  in  sending  you  as  an  ambassador  to  the  God- 
dess of  Rumor ;  she  has  graciously  sent  you  back  full-handed : 
let  us  see,  now,  in  what  your  budget  consists." 

"  The  first,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  the  most  welcome  to 
your  majesty,  is  this — Voltaire  has  arrived  in  Berlin,  and 
will  be  here  to-morrow  morning." 

The  king's  countenance  was  radiant  with  delight,  but  he 
was  considerate,  and  did  not  express  his  rapture. 

"  Dear  marquis,  you  say  that  Voltaire  has  arrived.  Do 
you  indeed  regret  it  ?  " 

D'Argens  was  silent  and  thoughtful  for  a  moment;  he 
raised  his  head,  and  his  eyes  were  obscured  by  tears. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  I  am  sorry !  We  greet  the  close  of  a 
lovely  day,  no  matter  how  glorious  the  declining  sun  may  be, 
with  something  of  fear  and  regret;  who  can  tell  but  that 
clouds  and  darkness  may  be  round  about  the  morning?  To- 
morrow a  new  day  dawns  and  a  new  sun  rises  in  Sans-Souci. 
Sire,  I  grieve  that  this  happy  day  is  ended." 

"  Jealous !  "  said  the  king,  folding  his  arms  and  walking 
backward  and  forward  upon  the  terrace.  Suddenly  he  stood 
before  D'Argens  and  laid  his  hands  upon  his  shoulders. 
"  You  are  right,"  said  he ;  "a  new  day  dawns,  a  new  sun  rises 

she  seated  herself  at  her  writinsr-taWe  to  write  an  essay  on  the  Newtonian 
system  ;  in  consequence  of  this  she  sickened  and  died  in  two  days.  After  her 
■death,  Voltaire  accepted  Frederick's  invitation  to  Sans-Souci, 


862        •         BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

upon  Sans-Souci,  but  I  fear  the  sun's  bright  face  will  be 
clouded  and  the  day  will  end  in  storm.  Voltaire  is  the  last 
ideal  of  my  youth ;  God  grant  that  I  may  not  have  to  cast  it 
aside  with  my  other  vain  illusions !  God  grant  that  the  man 
Voltaire  may  not  cast  down  the  genius  Voltaire  from  the 
altar  which,  with  willing  hands,  I  have  erected  for  him  in  my 
heart  of  hearts.  I  fear  the  cynic  and  the  miser.  I  have  a 
presentiment  of  evill  My  altar  will  fall  to  pieces,  and  its 
ruins  will  crush  my  own  heart.  Say  what  you  will,  D'Argens, 
I  have  still  a  heart,  though  the  world  haa  gnawed  at  and 
undermined  it  fearfully." 

"Yes,  sire,  a  great,  noble,  warm  heart,"  cried  D'Argens, 
deeply  moved,  "  full  of  love  ^nd  poetry,  of  magnanimity  and 
mercy ! " 

"You  must  not  betray  these  weaknesses  to  Voltaire," 
said  the  king,  laughing ;  "  he  would  mock  at  me,  and  I  should 
suffer  from  his  poisonous  satire,  as  I  have  done  more  than 
one:.  Voltaire  is  miserly;  that  displeases  me.  Covetous- 
ness  is  a  rust  which  will  obscure  and  at  last  destroy  the  finest 
metal!  The  miser  loyea  nothing  but  himself,  I  fear  that 
Voltaire  comes  to  me  simply  for  the  salary  I  have  promised 
him,  and  the  four  thousand  thalera  I  have  sent  him  for  his 


journey 


I  " 


"  In  this,  sire,  you  do  both  yourself  and  Voltaire  in- 
justice. Voltaire  is  genial  enough  to  look,  pot  upon  your 
erown,  but  upon  the  clear  brow  which  it  shades.  He  admires 
and  seeks  you,  not  because  you  are  a  king,  but  because  you 
are  a  great  spirit,  a  hero,  an  ai  thor,  a  scholar,  and  a  philoso- 
pher, and,  best  of  all,  a  good  and  noble  man." 

"  What  a  simple-minded  child  you  are,  jnarquia ! "  said 
Frederick,  with  a  sad  smile;  "you  believe  even  yet  in  the 
unselfish  attachments  of  men.  Truly,  you  have  a  right  to 
this  rare  faith ;  you,  at  least,  are  capable  of  such  an  affection. 
I  am  vain  enough  to  believe  that  you  are  unselfishly  devoted 
to  me." 

**  God  be  thanked  for  this  word !  "  said  D'Argens,  with  a 
glowing  countenance.  "  And  now  let  Voltaire  and  the  seven 
wise  men,  and  Father  Abraham  himself  come;  your  Isaac 
f cars  none  of  them ;  my  king  has  faith  in  me !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Frederick,  "  I  believe  in  you ;  an  evil  and 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    363 

bitter  thing  will  it  be,  if  the  day  shall  ever  come  when  I  shall 
doubt  you;  from  that  time  onward  I  will  trust  no  man.  I 
tell  you,  D'Argens,  your  kindly  face  and  your  love  are  neces- 
sary to  me;  I  will  use  them  as  a  shield  to  protect  myself 
against  the  darts  and  wiles  of  the  false  world.  You  must 
never  leave  me;  I  need  your  calm,  kind  eye,  your  happy 
smile,  your  childish  simplicity,  and  your  wise  experience; 
I  need  a  Pylades,  I  well  believe  that  something  of  Orestes  is 
hidden  in  my  nature.  And  now,  my  Pylades,  swear  to  me, 
swear  to  me  that  you  will  never  leave  me;  that  from  this 
hour  you  will  have  no  other  fatherland  than  Prussia,  no  other 
home  than  Potsdam  and  Sans-Souci." 

"  Ah,  your  majesty  asks  too  much.  I  cannot  adjure  my 
fatherland,  I  cannot  relinquish  my  Provence.  I  am  the 
Switzer,  with  his  song  of  home ;  when  he  hears  it  in  his  own 
land,  his  heart  bounds  with  joy;  when  he  hears  it  in  a  strange 
land,  his  eyes  fill  with  sorrowful  tears.  So  it  is  with  the 
'  beau  soleil  de  ma  Provence,''  the  remembrance  of  it  warms 
my  heart;  I  think  that  if  I  were  a  weak  old  man,  the  sight 
of  my  beautiful  sunny  home  would  make  me  young  and 
strong.  Your  majesty  will  not  ask  me  to  abandon  my  land 
forever  ? " 

"  You  love  the  sun  of  Provence,  then,  more  than  you  do 
me,"  said  Frederick,  with  a  slight  fro^vn. 

"  Your  majesty  cannot  justly  say  that,  when  I  have 
turned  my  back  upon  it,  and  shouted  for  joy  when  the  sun 
of  the  north  has  cast  its  rays  upon  me.  Sire,  let  me  pass  my 
life  under  the  glorious  northern  sun,  but  grant  that  I  may  die 
in  my  own  land." 

"  You  are  incomprehensible,  D'Argens ;  how  can  you 
know  when  you  are  about  to  die,  and  when  it  will  be  time  to 
return  to  your  beautiful  Provence  ?  " 

"  It  has  been  prophesied  that  I  shall  live  to  be  very  old, 
and  I  believe  in  prophecy." 

*'  What  do  you  call  old,  marquis  ?  Zacharias  was  eighty 
years  of  age  when  his  youthful  wife  of  seventy  gave  birth 
to  her  first  child." 

**  God  guard  me  from  stich  an  over-ripe  youth  and  such  a 
youthful  wife,  sire !  I  shall  be  content  if  ray  heart  remains 
young  till  my  seventieth  year,  and  has  strength  to  love  my 


364  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

king  and  rejoice  in  his  fame;  then,  sire,  I  shall  be  aged  and 
cold,  and  then  it  will  be  time  for  the  sun  of  Provence  to 
shine  upon  me  and  my  grave.  When  I  am  seventy  years  of 
age,  your  majesty  must  allow  your  faithful  servant  to  re- 
member that  France  is  his  home,  and  to  seek  his  grave  even 
where  his  cradle  stood." 

"  Seventy,  marquis!  and  how  old  are  you  now?" 

"  Sire,  I  am  still  young — forty-six  years  of  age.  You  see 
I  have  only  sought  a  plea  to  remain  half  an  eternity  at  the 
feet  of  your  majesty." 

"  You  are  forty-six,  and  you  are  willing  to  remain  twenty- 
four  years  at  my  side.  I  will  then  be  sixty-six;  that  is  to 
say,  I  will  be  hard  of  heart  and  cold  of  purpose.  I  will  de- 
spise mankind,  and  have  no  illusions.  Marquis,  I  believe 
when  that  time  comes,  I  can  give  you  up.  Let  it  be  so ! — 
you  remain  with  me  till  you  are  seventy.  Give  your  word 
of  honor  to  this,  marquis." 

"  Rather  will  your  majesty  be  gracious  enough  to  prom- 
ise not  to  dismiss  me  before  that  time  ? " 

"  I  promise  you,  and  I  must  have  your  oath  in  return." 

"  Sire,  I  swear !  On  that  day  in  which  I  enter  my  seven- 
tieth year,  I  will  send  you  my  certificate  of  baptism,  which 
you  will  also  look  upon  as  my  funeral  notice.  You  will  say 
sadly,  '  The  Marquis  d'Argens  is  dead,'  and  I — I  will  go 
t3  ma  belle  Provence,  and  seek  my  grave."  * 

"  But  before  this  time  you  will  become  very  religious,  a 
devotee,  will  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sire ;  that  is,  I  shall  devoutly  acknowledge  all  your 
goodness  to  me.  I  shall  be  the  most  religious  worshipper  of 
all  that  your  majesty  has  done  for  the  good  of  mankind,  for 
the  advancement  of  true  knowledge,  and  the  glory  of  your 
great  name." 

"  So  far,  so  good ;  but  there  is  in  this  world  another  kind 
of  religion,  in  the  exercise  of  which  you  have  as  yet  shown 
but  little  zeal.  "Will  you  at  last  assume  this  mask,  and  con- 
tradict the  principles  which  you  have  striven  to  maintain 
during  your  whole  life  ?  Will  you,  at  the  approach  of  death, 
go  through  with  those  ceremonies  and  observances  which  re- 
ligion commands  ? " 

*  Thi^bault,  vol.  i.,  p.  860. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AXD  HIS  FRIENDS.    8G5 

The  marquis  did  not  reply  immediately.  His  eye  turned 
to  the  beautiful  prospect  lying  at  his  feet,  upon  which  the 
last  purple  rays  of  the  evening  sun  were  now  lingering. 

"  This  is  God,  sire !  "  said  he,  enthusiastically ;  "  this  is 
truly  God!  Why  are  men  not  content  to  worship  Him  in 
nature,  to  find  Him  where  He  most  assuredly  is?  Why  do 
they  seek  Him  in  houses  made  with  hands,  and — " 

"  And  in  wafers  made  of  meal  and  water  ? "  said  Fred- 
erick, interrupting  him ;  "  and  now  tell  me,  marquis,  will  you 
also  one  day  seek  Him  thus  ? " 

"  Yes,  sire,"  said  D'Argens,  after  a  short  pause,  "  I  will 
do  thus  from  friendship  to  my  brothers,  and  interest  for  my 
family." 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  will  be  unfaithful  to  the  interests  of 
philosophy  and  truth  ?  " 

"  It  will  appear  so,  sire ;  but  no  man  of  intellect  and 
thought  will  be  duped  by  this  seeming  inconsistency.  If  the 
part  which  I  play  seem  unworthy,  I  may  be  excused  in  view 
of  my  motive — at  all  events,  I  do  not  think  it  wrong.  The 
folly  of  mankind  has  left  me  but  one  alternative — to  be  a 
hypocrite,  or  to  prepare  bitter  grief  for  my  relations,  who 
love  me  tenderly.  '  Out  of  love,'  then,  for  my  family,  I  will 
die  a  hypocrite.*  But,  sire,  why  should  we  speak  of  death? 
why  disquiet  the  laughing  spirits  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans, 
who  now  inhabit  this  their  newest  temple  by  discoursing  of 
graves  and  skeletons  ?  " 

"  You  are  right,  marquis — away  with  the  ghastly  spectre ! 
This  present  life  belongs  to  us,  and  a  happy  life  it  shall  be. 
We  will  sit  at  the  feet  of  Voltaire,  and  learn  how  to  banish 
the  sorrows  of  life  by  wit  and  mocking  laughter.  With  the 
imagination  and  enthusiasm  of  poets,  we  will  conceive  this 

*  The  marquis  returned  to  Provence,  in  his  seventieth  year,  and  died 
there.  The  journals  hastened  to  make  known  that  he  died  a  Christian,  ro- 
cantin^  his  atheistical  philosophy.  The  kinar  wrote  to  the  widow  of  the 
marquis  for  intelligence  on  this  subject.  She  replied  that  her  husband  had 
received  the  las^t  sacrsvmcnts.  but  only  after  lie  was  in  the  arms  of  death,  and 
could  neither  see  nor  hear,  and  she  lierself  had  left,  the  room.  The  marquise 
added  :  "  Ah,  sire,  what  a  land  is  this !  I  have  been  assured  that  the  greatest 
service  I  could  render  to  my  husband  would  be  to  bum  all  his  writinjrs.  to 
pive  all  his  pictures  to  the  flames;  that  the  more  we  hurt  on  earth  of  that 
which  is  sinful  or  leads  to  sin,  the  less  we  shall  burn  in  hell ! "— CEuvre* 
Posthumes,  vol.  xii.,  p.  316. 


866  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

world  to  be  a  paradise.  And  now  tell  me  what  Other  news 
you  have  broug-ht  back  with  j^ou  from  Berlin." 

"  Well,  sire,  Voltaire  is  not  the  only  star  Avho  has  risen 
in  Berlin.  There  are  other  comets  which  from  time  to  time 
lighten  the  heavens,  and  then  disappear  for  a  season  to  re- 
appear and  bring  strife  and  war  upon  the  earth." 

Frederick  looked  searchingly  upon  the  marquis.  "  You 
speak  in  riddles — what  comet  has  returned  ?  " 

"  Sire,  I  know  not  what  to  call  it.  She  herself  claims  a 
name,  her  right  to  which  is  dispuied  by  the  whole  world, 
though  she  swears  by  it." 

"  She  ?  it  is,  then,  a  woman  of  whom  you  speak  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sire ;  a  woman  whom  for  years  we  worshipped  as 
a  goddess,  or  at  least  as  an  enchanting  fairy — Barbarina  has 
returned  to  Berlin." 

"  Returned  ?  "  said  the  king,  indifferently ;  but  he  walked 
away  thoughtfully  to  the  end  of  the  terrace,  and  gazed  upon 
the  lovely  landscape  which,  in  its  quiet  beauty,  brought  peace 
to  his  heart,  and  gave  him  the  power  of  self-control. 

The  marquis  stood  apart,  and  looked  with  kindly  interest 
upon  his  noble  face,  now  lighted  by  the  glad  golden  rays  of 
the  sinking  sun.  Among  the  trees  arose  one  of  those  fierce, 
sighing  winds,  which  often  accompany  the  declining  sUn,  and 
seem  the  last  struggling  groans  of  the  dying  day.  This 
melancholy  soimd  broke  the  peaceful  stillness  around  the 
castle,  and  drowned  the  babbling  of  the  brooks  and  cascades. 
As  the  wild  wind  rustled  madly  through  the  trees,  it  tore 
from  their  green  boughs  the  first  faded,  yellow  leaves  which 
had  lain  concealed,  like  the  first  white  hairs  on  the  temples 
of  a  beautiful  woman,  and  drove  them  here  and  there  in 
wanton  sport.  One  of  these  withered  leaves  fell  at  the  feet 
of  the  king.  He  took  it  up  and  gazed  at  it.  Pensively  he 
drew  near  the  marquis. 

"  Look  you,  friend,"  said  he,  holding  up  the  fallen  leaf 
toward  the  marquis ;  "  look  you,  this  is  to  me  the  Barbarina 
— a  faded  remembrance  of  the  happy  past,  and  nothing  more. 
Homer  was  right  when  he  likened  the  hearts  of  men  to  the 
yellow  leave*  tossed  and  driven  by  the  winds.  Even  such  a 
leaf  is  Barbarina;  I  raise  it  and  lay  it  in  my  herbarium  with 
other  mementoes,  and  rejoice  that  the  dust  and  ashes  of 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    367 

life  have  fallen  upon  it,  and  taken  from  it  form  and  color. 
And  now  that  you  know  this,  D'Argens,  tell  me  frankly  why 
the  signora  has  returned.  Does  she  come  alone,  or  with  her 
husband.  Lord  Stuart  McKenzie  ?  " 

"  She  has  returned  with  her  sister,  and  Lord  Stuart  is  not 
her  husband.  It  is  said  that  when  Barbarina  arrived  in  Eng- 
land, she  found  him  just  married  to  a  rich  Scotch  lady." 

The  king  laughed  heartily.  "  And  yet  men  expect  us  to 
listen  gravely  when  they  rave  of  the  eternity  of  their  love," 
said  he.  "  This  little  sentimental  lord  called  heaven  and 
earth  to  witness  the  might  of  his  love  for  Barbarina.  Was 
he  not  almost  a  madman  when  I  seized  his  jewel,  and  tore  her 
away  from  Venice?  Did  he  not  declare  that  he  would  con- 
sider me  answerable  for  his  life  and  reason,  if  I  did  not  re- 
lease my  prima  donna?  He  wished  her  to  enter,  with  an 
artistic  piroiiette,  his  lofty  castle,  and  place  herself,  as  Lady 
Stuart  McKenzie,  amongst  his  ever-worthy,  ever-virtuous, 
ever-renowned  ancestors.  And  now,  Barbarina  can  stand  as 
godmother  by  his  first  bom." 

"  Or  he  perform  that  holy  oflSce  for  Barbarina.  It  is  said 
that  she  is  also  married." 

"To  whom?" 

"  To  the  state  councillor,  Coceeji." 

"  Folly !  how  can  that  be  ?  She  has  been  in  England,  and 
he  has  not  left  Berlin,  But  her  return  will  bring  us  vexation 
and  strife,  and  I  see  already  the  whole  dead  race  of  the 
Coccejis  raising  up  their  skeleton  arms  from  their  graves  to 
threaten  the  bold  dancer,  who  dares  to  call  herself  their 
daughter.  I  prophesy  that  young  Coceeji  will  become  even 
as  cool  and  as  reasonable  as  Lord  Stuart  McKenzie  has  be- 
come. Give  a  man  time  to  let  the  fire  burn  out — all  depends 
upon  that.  This  favor  his  family  may  well  demand  of  me, 
and  I  must  grant  it.  But  now  let  us  enter  the  house,  mar- 
quis, the  Sim  has  disappeared,  and  I  am  chilled.  I  know  not 
whether  the  news  you  bring,  or  the  evening  air,  has  affected 
me.  Let  us  walk  backward  and  forward  once  or  twice,  and 
then  we  will  go-  to  the  library,  and  you  will  assist  me  in  the 
last  verse  of  a  poem  I  am  composing  to  greet  Voltaire.  Do 
not  frown,  marquis,  let  me  sing  his  welcome ;  who  knows  but 
I  may  also  rejoice  in  his  departure?    My  heart  is  glad  at  his 


368  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

coming,  and  yet  I  fear  it.  "We  must  not  scrutinize  the  sun 
too  closely,  or  we  will  find  spots  upon  his  glorious  face.  Per- 
haps Voltaire  and  myself  resemble  each  other  too  much  to 
live  in  peace  and  harmony  together.  I  think  we  are  only 
drawn  permanently  to  our  opposites.  Believe  me,  D'Argens, 
I  shall  not  be  able  to  live  twenty-four  years  happily  with 
Voltaire,  as  I  shall  surely  do  with  you.  Twenty-four  years ! 
do  not  forget  that  you  are  mine  for  twenty-four  years." 

"  Sire,  as  long  as  I  live  I  am  yours.  You  have  not 
bought  me  with  gold,  but  by  the  power  of  a  noble  soul.  So 
long  as  I  live,  my  heart  belongs  to  you,  even  when,  at 
seventy,  I  fly  to  seek  my  grave  in  belle  Provence.  But,  my 
king,  I  have  yet  another  favor  .to  ask  of  you." 

"  Speak,  marquis,  but  do  not  be  so  cruel  as  to  ask  that 
which  I  cannot  grant." 

"  If  it  shall  please  Providence  to  call  me  away  before  I 
have  attained  my  seventieth  year,  if  I  die  in  Berlin,  will 
your  majesty  grant  me  the  grace  not  to  be  buried  in  one  of 
those  dark,  damp,  dreary  churchyards,  where  skull  lies  close 
by  skull,  and  at  the  resurrection  every  one  will  be  in  danger 
of  seizing  upon  the  bones  which  do  not  belong  to  him,  and 
appearing  as  a  thief  at  the  last  judgment?  I  pray  you,  let 
me  remain  even  in  death  an  individual,  and  not  be  utterly 
lost  in  the  great  crowd.  If  I  die  here,  grant  that  I  may  be 
buried  where,  when  living,  I  have  been  most  happy.  Allow 
me,  after  a  long  and  active  day,  to  pass  the  night  of  im- 
mortality in  the  garden  of  Sans-Souci." 

"  It  shall  be  so,"  said  the  king,  much  moved.  "  There, 
imder  the  statue  of  Flora,  is  my  grave — where  shall  be 
yours  ?     Choose  for  yourself." 

"  If  I  dare  choose,  sire,  let  it  be  there  under  that  beauti- 
ful vase  of  ebony." 

Frederick  gave  a  smiling  assent,  and  taking  the  arm  of 
the  marquis,  he  said,  "  Come,  we  will  go  to  the  vase,  and  I 
will  lay  my  hand  upon  it  and  consecrate  it  to  you." 

Silently  they  passed  the  statue  of  Flora,  which  Frederick 
greeted  gayly,  and  the  marquis  with  profound  reverence  then 
mounted  two  small  steps  and  stood  upon  the  green  circle. 
The  king  paused  and  looked  down  thoughtfully  upon  9 
gravestone  wjiich  Jiis  feet  almost  touchedt 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    369 

"  Be  pious  and  prayerful  on  this  spot,"  said  he ;  "  we 
stand  by  the  grave  of  my  most  faithful  friend,  who  is  enjoy- 
ing before  us  the  happiness  of  everlasting  sleep.  Here  lies 
Biche !  Hat  off,  marquis !  She  loved  me,  and  was  faithful 
unto  death.  Who  knows  if  I,  under  my  statue  of  Flora,  and 
you,  under  your  vase,  will  merit  the  praise  which  I,  with  my 
whole  soul,  award  to  my  Biche !  She  was  good  and  faithful 
to  the  end."  * 


CHAPTER  II. 

VOLTAIRE  AND  HIS  ROYAL  TRIEND. 

The  king  had  withdrawn  to  his  library  earlier  than  usual ; 
he  had  attended  a  cabinet  council,  worked  for  an  hour  with 
his  minister  of  state,  and,  after  fulfilling  these  public  duties, 
withdrawn  gladly  to  his  books,  hoping  to  consume  the  time 
which  crept  along  with  leaden  feet. 

The  king  expected  Voltaire;  he  knew  he  had  arrived 
at  Potsdam,  where  he  would  rest  and  refresh  himself  for  a 
few  hours,  and  then  proceed  at  once  to  Sans-Souci. 

Frederick  regarded  this  first  meeting  with  Voltaire,  after 
long  years  of  separation,  with  more  of  anxiety  than  of  joyful 
impatience.  Voltaire's  arrival  and  residence  at  Sans-Souci 
had  been  the  warm  desire  of  Frederick's  heart  for  many 
years,  and  yet,  as  the  time  for  its  fulfilment  drew  near,  the 
king  almost  trembled.  What  did  this  mean?  How  was  it 
that  this  friendship,  which  for  sixteen  years  had  been  so 
publicly  avowed,  and  so  zealously  confirmed  by  private  oaths 
and  protestations,  seemed  now  wavering  and  uncertain? 

About  now  to  reach  the  goal  so  ardently  striven  for,  the 
king  felt  that  he  was  not  pleased.  A  cold  blast  seemed  to 
sweep  over  him,  and  fill  him  with  sad  presentiments. 

Frederick  was  filled  with  wonder  and  admiration  for  the 
genius  of  the  great  French  writer,  but  he  knew  that,  as  a 
man,  Voltaire  was  unworthy  of  his  friendship.    He  justly 

»  Nicolai,  "  Anecdoten."— Heft,  p.  202. 


3T0  BEllLll^  AND  SAJfS-SOttCI ;  Oft, 

feared  that  the  realities  of  life  and  daily  intercourse  would 
fall  like  a  cold  dew  upon  this  fare  blossom  of  friendship  be- 
tween a  king  and  a  poet;  this  tender  plant  which,  during  so 
many  years  of  separation,  they  had  nourished  and  kept  warm 
by  glowing  assurances  and  fiery  declarations,  must  now  be  re- 
moved from  the  hot-house  of  imagination,  \vhere  it  had  been , 
excited  to  false  growth  by  the  eloquence  of  letters,  and  ' 
transplanted  into  a  world  of  truth  and  soberness. 

This  friendship  had  no  real  foundation;  it  floated  like 
a  variegated  phantom  in  the  air,  nfatamorga7ia,\fhose  glit- 
tering temple  halls  and  pillars  would  soon  melt  away  like  the 
early  cloud  and  the  morning  dew.  In  these  "  cloud-capped 
towers  and  gorgeous  palaces/'  the  two  great  freethinkers 
and  genial  philosophers  of  their  century  intended  to  culti- 
vate and  enjoy  their  friendship.  In  these  temples  of  air 
they  wished  to  embrace  each  other,  but  the  two-edged  sword 
of  mistrust  and  suspicion  already  flashed  between  them,  and 
both  felt  inclined  to  draw  back. 

Both  doubted  the  sincerity  of  this  friendship,  and  the 
less  they  believed  in  it  the  more  eloquently  they  declaimed  as 
to  its  ardor  and  eternity.  Each  one  thought  to  himself, 
"  I  will  enjoy  and  profit  by  the  fruit  of  this  friendship,  I  will 
yield  up  the  blossoms  only."  The  blossoms,  alas!  were  arti-' 
ficial,  without  odor  and  already  fading,  though  at  the  first 
glance  they  looked  fresh  and  promising. 

Once,  in  the  youthful  ardor  of  his  enthusiasm  for  genius, 
Frederick  had  forgotten  himself  so  far  as  to  kiss  the  hand 
of  Voltaire.*  The  proud  and  ambitious  poet  had  boasted 
loudly  of  this  act  of  devotion;  for  this  Frederick  had  never 
forgiven  him;  he  should  have  guarded  it  as  a  holy  and  dan- 
gerous secret  in  the  innermost  shrine  of  his  heart.  Voltaire 
was  angry  with  the  king  because  he  had  lately  addressed 
some  Verses  to  the  young  poet  D'Arnaud,  in  which  he  was 
fepresented  as  the  rising  and  Voltaire  as  the  setting  sun.f 
^  And  yet  they  believed  they  loved  each  other,  and  were  about 
to  put  their  love  to  the  severe  test  of  uninterrupted  inter- 
course. 

The  king  awaited  Voltaire  with  impatience,  an<i  now  he 
heard  the  rolling  of  carriage-'W^heels,  then  the  opening  of 
*  Tbi(^bault.  i  CEuvres  posthumes. 


FREDERICS:  fflE  GREAT  A^D  HIS  FRIENDS.    37 1 

doors,  then  the  sound  of  voices.  In  the  first  impulse  of  joy 
he  sprang  from  his  seat  and  advanced  eagerly  to  meet  Vol- 
taire, but  reaching  the  threshold  of  the  door  he  stood  still 
and  considered.  "  Ko,"  said  he,  "  1  will  not  go  to  meet  him 
— he  would  mock  at  me,  perhaps  boast  of  it."  He  turned 
back  to  his  chair,  and  took  up  the  book  he  had  been  reading. 
And  now  some  one  tapped  gently  upon  the  door,  a  servant  ap- 
peared and  announced  "  Monsieur  Voltaire,"  and  now  a 
figure  stood  upon  the  door-sill. 

This  man,  with  a  small,  contracted  chest,  with  a  back 
bowed  down  by  old  age  or  infirmities;  this  man,  with  the 
Wonderous  countenance,  of  which  no  one  could  decide  if  it 
was  the  face  of  a  satyr  or  a  demi-god;  whose  eyes  flashed 
with  heavenly  inspiration  at  one  moment,  and  in  the  next 
glowed  with  demoniac  fire ;  whose  lips  were  distorted  by  the 
most  frightful  grimaces  or  relaxed  into  the  most  enchanting 
smiles-^this  man  is  Voltaire. 

As  Frederick's  glance  met  those  burning  eyes,  h6  forgot 
all  else,  his  royalty,  his  dignity,  eVen  Voltaire's  baseness  and 
vanity ;  he  was  to  him  the  spirit  of  the  age,  the  genius  of  the 
world,  *ind  he  hastened  to  meet  him,  opened  his  arms  wide, 
and  pressed  him  tenderly  to  his  heart.  "  Welcome,  welcome, 
my  lord  and  master,"  said  the  king ;  "  I  receive  you,  as  be- 
comes a  pupil,  in  my  school-room,  surrounded  by  my  books, 
whose  mysterious  lessons  of  wisdom,  you,  my  teacher,  will 
make  clear." 

"  On  the  contrary,  sire,"  said  Voltaire,  with  a  soft  voice 
and  a  most  enchanting  smile — "on  the  contrary,  you  re" 
ceive  me  with  all  the  pomp  of  royalty  seated  upon  a  throne, 
which  is  not  yours  by  inheritance,  but  which  you  have  con- 
quered ;  upon  the  throne  of  knowledge  and  learning,  crowned 
with  the  laurels  which  the  gods  consecrate  to  heroes  and 
poets.  Alas!  my  eyes  are  dazzled  by  the  lustre  which  sur- 
rounds me,  I  bow  in  humility  before  this  lordly  head 
adorned  by  two  royal  crowns  and  reigning  over  two  mighty 
kingdoms.  Receive  me,  sire,  as  an  ambassador  from  the 
realm  of  poets,  whose  crown  you  wear  with  so  much  grace 
and  dignity." 

Frederick  smiled  kindly.  "  Let  me  be  only  a  burgher  and 
your  comrade  in  arms  in  the  republic  of  letters,"  said  he. 
24 


372  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  I  hold  republics  generally  as  impossibilities,  but  I  believe 
in  a  republic  of  letters,  and  I  have  a  right  republican  heart, 
striving  after  liberty,  equality,  and  brotherly  love.  Remem- 
ber this,  friend,  and  let  us  forget  at  Sans-Souci  that  your 
comrade  is  sometimes  the  first  servant  of  a  kingdom.  And 
now,  tell  me  how  you  have  borne  the  fatigues  of  the  journey, 
and  if  you  have  been  received  at  every  station  with  the 
marked  attention  I  had  commanded." 

"  Yes,  sire,  everywhere  in  Prussia  I  have  felt  myself  al- 
most oppressed,  humbled,  by  your  greatness.  How  great, 
how  mighty,  how  powerful,  must  your  majesty  be,  when  I  am 
so  distinguished,  so  honored,  simply  because  I  enjoy  your  fa- 
vor! This  honor  and  this  pleasure  alone  have  given  me 
strength  for  my  journey.  My  friends  in  Paris  thought  it 
absurd  and  ridiculous  for  me,  in  my  miserable  condition, 
to  attempt  so  fatiguing  a  journey.  But,  sire,  I  was  not  will- 
ing to  die  before  I  had  once  more  sat  at  the  feet  of  this  great 
and  yet  simple  man,  this  exalted  yet  genial  philosopher. 
I  wished  to  revive  and  quicken  my  sick  heart  at  this  fountain 
of  wit  and  wisdom.  I  come,  therefore,  not  as  Voltaire,  but 
as  the  tragic  Scarron  of  your  century,  and  throughout  my 
whole  journey  I  have  called  myself  the  '  Invalid  of  the  King 
of  Prussia.' "  * 

Frederick  laughed  heartily.  "  The  Marshal  of  Saxony 
and  yourself  are  in  the  same  condition  with  your  maladies; 
in  the  extremity  of  illness  you  have  more  energy  and  power 
than  all  other  men  in  the  most  robust  health.  Voltaire,  if 
you  had  not  come  now  I  should  have  considered  you  a  bad 
penny:  in  place  of  the  true  metal  of  friendship  I  should 
have  suspected  you  of  palming  off  plated  lead  upon  me.  It 
is  well  for  you  that  you  are  here.  You  are  like  the  white 
elephant  for  whom  the  Shah  of  Persia  and  the  Great  Mogul 
are  continually  at  war.  The  one  who  is  so  fortunate  as  to 
possess  the  white  elephant  makes  it  always  the  occasion  of  an 
added  title.  I  will  follow  their  example,  and  from  this  time 
my  title  shall  run  thus :  '  Frederick,  by  the  grace  of  God, 
King  of  Prussia,  Prince-Elector  of  Brandenburg,  Possessor 
of  Voltaire,  etc.  etc.' " 

"  Your  majesty  may  say,  *  of  inalienable  Voltaire.'  I 
•  CEuvree  Oompletea  de  Voltaire.    (Euvres  rosthuiues. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    373 

am  wiser  than  the  white  elephant ;  no  war  shall  be  necessary 
to  conquer*  or  to  hold  me.  I  declare  myself  your  majesty's 
most  willing  subject  joyfully.  Let  me  then  be  your  white 
elephant,  sire,  and  if  the  Great  Mogul  covets  and  demands 
me,  I  pray  you  to  conceal  me." 

While  Voltaire  was  speaking,  he  cast  a  sly  glance  upon 
the  countenance  of  the  king,  his  smile  disappeared,  and  his 
face  lost  its  kindly  expression. 

Frederick  did  not,  or  would  not  see  it.  "  Not  so,"  said 
he,  gayly ;  "  I  will  not  conceal  you,  but  boldly  declare  that 
you  are  mine." 

"  I  am,  nevertheless,  the  subject  of  the  King  of  France," 
said  Voltaire,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  When  I  resolved 
to  leave  Paris,  they  did  not  deprive  me  of  my  title  of  '  His- 
torian of  the  King  of  France,'  they  only  took  from  me  my 
pension.  They  knew  I  must  travel  by  post,  and  that  a  title 
was  less  weighty  for  the  horses  than  a  pension  of  six  thousand 
livres ;  so  they  lightened  me  of  that,  and  I  come  unpensioned 
to  your  majesty." 

This  little  comedy  was  too  clear  to  escape  the  king,  but 
he  seemed  not  to  understand  it.  A  shadow  fell  upon  his 
brow,  and  the  expression  of  his  face  was  troubled.  He 
wished  to  worship  Voltaire  as  a  noble,  exalted  genius,  and  he 
was  pained  to  find  him  a  pitiful,  calculating,  common  man. 

"  You  have,  then,  fallen  under  the  displeasure  of  my 
brother  Louis,  of  France  ?  "  said  he. 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  am  assured  that  I  stand  in  the  high- 
est favor.  I  am,  indeed,  honored  with  a  most  agreeable  and 
flattering  commission;  and  if  your  majesty  allows,  I  will 
immediately  discharge  it." 

"  Do  so,"  said  Frederick,  smiling.  "  Lay  aside  every 
weight,  that  your  wings  may  waft  you  into  the  heaven  of 
heavens  while  at  Sans-Souci.  You  have  been  relieved  of 
your  pension,  cast  all  your  ballast  into  the  scale  also." 

"  Sire,  the  Marquise  de  Pompadour  directed  me  to  pre- 
sent your  majesty  with  her  most  obedient  and  submissive 
greetings,  and  to  assure  you  of  her  reverence  and  heart-felt 
devotion." 

Frederick  quietly  drew  his  tdbatiere  from  his  vest-pocket, 
aod  slowly  taking  a  pinch  of  snviff,  he  fixed  tis  burning  eyes 


374  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

upon  Voltaire's  smiling  and  expectant  face;  then  said,  with 
the  most  complete  indifference,  "  The  Marquise  de  Pompa- 
dour.    Who  is  she  ?    I  do  not  know  her !  " 

Voltaire  looked  at  the  king  astonished  and  questioning. 

Frederick  did  not  remark  this,  but  went  on  quietly: 
"Have  you  no  other  greetings  for  me?  Have  none  of  the 
great  spirits,  in  which  Paris  is  so  rich,  remembered  me  ? " 
I  "I  shall  be  careful  not  to  mention  any  other  greetings. 
All  the  so-called  great  spirits  appear  so  small  in  the  presence 
of  your  exalted  majesty,  I  fear  you  will  not  acknowledge 
them." 

"  Not  so,"  said  Frederick ;  "  I  gladly  recognize  all  that  is 
really  great  and  worthy  of  renown.  Voltaire  will  never 
find  a  more  enthusiastic  admirer  than  I  am." 

"  Ah,  sire,  these  words  are  a  balsam  which  I  will  lay  upon 
my  breast,  lacerated  by  the  wild  outcries  of  my  critics." 

"  So  the  critics  have  been  giving  you  trouble  ? "  said 
Frederick. 

"  Yes,  sire,"  said  Voltaire,  with  the  passionate  scorn  so 
peculiar  to  him ;  "  they  have  bored  their  insatiable  and  pois- 
onous teeth  into  my  flesh.  They  are  so  miserable  and  so 
pitiful,  that  I  seem  to  myself  miserable  and  pitiful  as  their 
victim,  and  in  all  humility  I  will  ask  your  majesty,  if  such 
hounds  are  allowed  to  howl  unpunished,  would  it  not  be 
better  for  Voltaire  to  creep  into  some  den,  and  acknowledge 
the  wild  beasts  of  the  forests  as  his  brothers — perhaps  they 
might  regard  his  verses  as  melodious  barkings  and  bowl- 


ings 


?» 


"  Still  the  same  boisterous  hot-head,  the  Orlando  Furio- 
so,"  cried  the  king,  laughing  heartily.  "  Is  your  skin  so 
tender  still  that  the  needles  of  the  little  critics  disturb  you, 
and  to  gratify  their  malice  will  you  become  a  mule  ?  If  you 
are  driven  to  abandon  the  Muses,  friend,  who  will  have  the 
hardihood  to  stand  by  them  ?  No,  no !  do  not  follow  in  the 
footsteps  of  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob;  do  not 
*  visit  the  sins  of  the  fathers  upon  the  children  unto  the  third 
and  fourth  generation ; '  do  not  make  the  public  of  our  day, 
and  of  the  next  century,  suffer  for  the  crimes  of  a  few  pitiful 
critics.  The  persecutions  and  slanders  of  the  envious  are 
the  tribute  great  merit  must  always  pay  to  the  world  at  large. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    876 

Let  them  rail  on,  but  do  not  believe  that  the  nations  and  the 
future  will  be  duped  by  them.  Utterly  disregarding  the 
criticisms  of  the  so-called  masters  of  art,  we  of  this  century 
admire  and  wonder  at  the  chefs-d^ostivre  of  Greece  and 
Rome.  The  mad  cry  of  ^schines  does  not  obscure  the  fame 
of  Demosthenes;  and  in  spite  of  Lucian,  C89sar  is,  and  will 
ever  remain,  the  greatest  man  the  world  has  ever  produced. 
I  guarantee  that  after  your  death  you  will  be  canonized, 
worshipped.  I  humbly  entreat  you  not  to  hasten  the  time, 
but  be  content  to  have  the  apotheosis  in  your  pocket,  and  to 
be  honored  by  all  those  who  are  too  exalted  to  be  envious  or 
prejudiced.     I,  Frederick,  stand  foremost  in  the  ranks."  * 

"  Why  cannot  the  whole  world  be  present  to  hear  the 
words  of  a  king  whom  I  am  proud,  from  this  day  onward,  to 
call  my  king  ?  "  cried  Voltaire,  passionately.  "  Sire,  I  love 
you  ardently!  I  believe  the  gods  made  us  for  each  other. 
I  have  long  loved  you  tenderly !  I  have  been  angry  with  you, 
but  I  have  forgiven  you  all,  and  I  love  you  to  madness !  There 
was  never  a  weaker,  frailer  body  than  mine,  but  my  soul  is 
sti'ong !  I  dare  to  say  I  love  you  aa  much  as  I  admire  you !  f 
Verily,  I  hold  this  to  be  as  great  a  conquest  as  the  five  other 
victories  your  majesty  has  achieved,  and  for  which  the  world 
.worships  you.  From  this  day  I  will  be  like  your  faithful 
hound ;  I  will  lie  at  your  feet,  even  though  you  should  spurn 
me,  and  declare  that  you  will  not  be  my  master  and  lord. 
I  will  still  return.  Your  threshold  shall  be  my  home,  and 
I  will  be  content  with  the  crumbs  which  fall  from  your 
table,  lily  fortune  aind  my  happiness  shall  consist  in  loving 
you  I" 

"  I  will  not  put  your  love  to  so  hard  a  proof,"  said  the 
king,  smiling.  "I  dare  hope  to  provide  you  with  a  more 
durable  dwelling.  I  promise  you  shall  not  be  like  Lazarus, 
feeding  upon  crumbs.  You  shall  be  the  rich  man  dispensing 
them." 

Here  was  a  sort  of  promise  and  assurance  which  banished 
in  some  degree  the  nervous  anxiety  and  distrust  of  Voltaire, 
and  "his  coimtenance  once  more  beamed  with  joy.  He  sup- 
pressed his   satisfaction,   however,   instantly.    He   did  not 

*  The  king's  own  words. — CEuvres  Posthumes. 
t  Voltaire's  own  words. 


376  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

wish  to  betray  to  the  observant  eye  of  Frederick  his  selfish 
and  miserly  nature,  and  assumed  at  once  a  melancholy  look. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  "  I  do  not  resemble  Lazarus ;  and  if  your 
majesty  does  not  possess  the  miraculous  power  of  the  young 
rabbi,  Jesus  Christus,  I  fear  you  will  soon  have  to  bury  me. 
But  I  am  as  true  a  believer  as  any  Jew.  I  trust  fully  to  the 
magic  power  of  your  hand.  Was  not  your  marvellous  touch 
sufficient  to  place  beautiful  Silesia,  a  gem  of  the  first  water, 
in  the  crown  of  Prussia  ? — to  awaken  spirits,  sleeping  almost 
the  sleep  of  death,  and  to  call  into  life  on  these  barbarous 
northern  steppes  the  blossoms  of  education  and  refinement? 
I  believe  in  the  miracles  of  the  Solomon  of  the  North,  and  I 
am  willing  to  give  my  testimony  to  the  whole  world." 

"  Nevertheless,  if  the  French  cock  crows,  you  will  betray 
me  three  times,"  said  the  king.  "  I  know  you,  Voltaire,  and 
I  know  when  you  are  enraged,  nothing  is  si.cred.  I  fear  that 
here,  as  elsewhere,  you  will  find  provocations.  But  now, 
before  all  other  things,  what  have  you  brought  me?  What 
gift  has  your  muse  produced  for  the  poor  philosopher  of 
Sans-Souci?  I  will  niit  believe  that  you  come  with  empty 
hands,  and  that  the  Homer  of  France  has  broken  his  lyre." 

"  No,  sire,  I  am  not  empty-handed !  I  have  brought  you 
a  present.  I  believe  it  to  be  the  best  and  most  beautiful 
production  of  my  muse.  For  twenty  years  I  have  swelled 
with  indignation  at  the  tragedy  which  my  good  friend,  Mas- 
ter Crebillon,  made  of  the  most  exalted  subject  of  antiquity. 
With  the  adroit  hands  of  a  tailor  he  stitched  up  a  monkey- 
jacket  out  of  the  purple  toga,  and  adorned  it  with  the  miser- 
able tawdry  trifies  of  a  pitiful  lore  and  pompous  Gothic 
verse!  Crebillon  has  written  a  French  Catiline.  I,  sire, 
have  written  a  Eoman  Catiline !  You  shall  see,  sire,  and  you 
shall  admire !  In  one  of  my  most  wretched,  sleepless  nights, 
the  devil  overcame  me,  and  said :  *  Revenge  Cicero  and 
France !  Crebillon  has  disgraced  both.  Wash  out  this  stain 
from  France.'  This  was  a  good  dovil;  and  even  you, 
sire,  could  not  have  driven  me  to  work  more  eagerly  than  he 
did.  Day  and  night  he  chained  me  to  my  writing-desk*!  I 
feared  I  should  die  of  excitement,  but  the  devil  held  on  to 
me,  and  the  spirits  of  the  great  Romans  stood  by  my  table 
and  tore  off  the  absurd  and  ridiculous  masks  which  Crebillon 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     377 

had  laid  upon  them.  They  showed  me  their  true,  exalted, 
glowing  faces,  and  commanded  me  to  portray  them, 
*  that  the  world  at  last  might  feel  their  majestic  beauty,  and 
be  no  longer  deceived  by  the  caricatures  of  Crebillon ! '  I 
was  obliged  to  obey,  sire !  I  worked  unceasingly,  and  in 
eight  days  I  had  finished!  Catiline  was  born,  and  I  was 
as  much  exhausted  as  ever  a  woman  was  at  the  birth  of  her 
first-born !  "  * 

"  You  do  not  mean  that  in  eight  days  you  completed  the 
tragedy  ?  "  said  the  king.  "  You  mean  only  that  you  have 
arranged  the  plot,  and  will  finish  the  work  here." 

"  No,  sire,  I  bring  you  the  tragedy  complete,  and  I  wrote 
it  in  eight  days.  Ah,  sire,  this  is  a  tragedy  you  will  enjoy! 
You  will  see  no  lovelorn  Tullia,  no  infirm  and  toothless 
Cicero ;  you  will  see  a  fearful  picture  of  Kome,  a  picture 
at  which  I  myself  shuddered.  But,  sire,  when  you  read  it, 
you  must  swear  to  me  to  read  it  in  the  same  spirit  in  which 
it  is  written.  I  have  left  to  my  collegian  Crebillon  all  his 
dramatic  plunder;  his  Catiline  is  a  pure  fiction.  I  have 
written  mine,  remembering  my  province  as  an  historian. 
Rome  is  my  heroine;  she  is  the  mistress  for  whom  I  would 
interest  all  Europe.  I  have  no  other  intrigue  than  Rome's 
danger;  no  other  material  than  the  mad  craft  of  Catiline, 
the  vehemence  and  heroic  virtue  of  Cicero,  the  jealousy  of 
the  Roman  Senate,  the  development  of  the  character  of 
Cassar;  no  other  women  than  that  unfortunate  who  was 
seduced  by  Catiline  because  of  her  gentleness  and  amiability. 
I  know  not,  sire,  if  you  will  shudder  at  the  fourth  act,  but  I, 
the  writer,  trembled  and  shuddered.  My  tragedy  is  not 
formed  upon  any  model,  it  is  new  in  nova  fert  animus 
Truly  I  know  the  world  will  rail  at  me  for  this,  and  the  small 
souls  gnash  their  teeth  and  howl,  but  my  work  is  written  with 
a  great  soul,  and  kindred  spirits  will  comprehend  me.  The 
envious  and  the  pitiful  I  will  at  last  trample  under  my  feet. 
Jupiter  strove  with  the  Titans  and  overcame  them.  I  am 
no  Jupiter,  neither  are  my  adversaries  Titans." 

While  these  words,  in  an  irrepressible  and  powerful 
stream  of  eloquence,  burst  from  his  lips,  Voltaire  became  an- 
other man.  His  countenance  was  imposing  in  its  beauty, 
*  This  whole  speech  is  from  Voltaire, 


378  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OB, 

his  eyes  glowed  with  the  fire  of  inspiration,  an  enchanting 
smile  played  upon  his  lips,  and  his  bowed  and  contracted 
form  was  proudly  erect  and  commanding.  The  king  gazed 
upon  him  with  admiration.  At  length,  Voltaire,  panting  for 
breath,  was  silent.  Frederick  laid  his  two  hands  upon  his 
shoulders,  and  looked  into  the  glowing  face  with  an  in- 
describable  expression  of  love  and  tenderness, 

"  Xow,"  said  he,  "  I  have  again  and  at  last  found  my 
Voltaire,  my  proud,  inspired  king  of  poets,  my  Homer, 
crowned  with  immortality!  The  might  of  genius  has  torn 
away  the  mantle  of  the  courtier,  and  in  place  of  pitiful, 
pliant,  humble  words,  I  hear  again  the  melodious,  flashing, 
eloquent  speech  of  my  royal  poet !  Welcome,  Voltaire,  wel' 
come  to  Sans-Souci,  whose  poor  philosopher  is  but  king  of 
men,  while  the  spirits  are  subject  unto  you!  Ah,  my  all' 
powerful  king  and  master,  be  gracious !  You  possess  a  won' 
drous  realm,  give  me  at  least  a  small  province  in  your  king- 
dom." 

"  Sire,  you  mock  at  me,"  cried  Voltaire.  "  I  have  written 
Caesar  and  Cicero  for  the  theatre.  You,  however,  exhibit  on 
the  stage  of  tho  world  the  two  greatest  men  of  the  greatest 
century,  combined  in  your  own  person.  I  have  come  to  gaze 
upon  this  wonder;  it  is  a  far  loftier  drama  than  mine,  and 
will  be  surely  more  nobly  represented.*  Your  majesty  rep- 
resents what  you  truly  are,  but  where  shall  I  find  actors  to 
fill  the  role  of  Cresar,  Cicero,  and  Catiline;  how  shall  I 
change  the  pitiful  souls  of  the  couUase  into  gixjat  men ;  make 
noble  Romans  out  of  these  small  pasteboard  heroes  of  the 
mode  ?  I  could  find  no  actors  for  my  tragedy  in  Paris,  and  it 
shall  never  be  unworthily  reprcaented ! " 

"  We  will  bring  it  upon  the  stage  here,"  said  Frederick. 
"  Yes,  truly,  this  new  and  great  work  shall  announce,  like 
a  flaming  comet,  Voltaire's  arrival  in  Berlin.  At  the  same 
moment  in  which  the  Berlinese  see  that  you  are  at  last 
amongst  them,  shall  they  acknowledge  that  you  are  worthy 
to  be  honored  and  worshipped.  In  four  weeks,  Voltaire, 
^ball  your  new  tragedy  be  given  in  my  palace." 

"Has  your  majesty,  then,  a  French  company,  and  such 
a  0»e  as  may  dare  to  represent  my  Catiline  ? " 
*  Voltftire's  own  word*. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    379 

"  For  the  love  of  Voltaire  will  all  my  courtiers,  and  even 
my  sister,  become  actors ;  and  though  a  Cicero  failed  you  in 
Paris,  in  Berlin  we  will  surely  find  you  one.  Have  we  not 
Voltaire  who  can  take  that  7'^le.  If  no  reliable  director 
could  be  found  in  Paris,  I  give  you  permission  to  select 
from  my  court  circle  those  you  consider  most  talented  and 
most  capable  as  actors,  and  you  can  study  their  parts  with 
them — I  myself  alone  excepted.  Ten  years  ago  I  wished  to 
have  your  *  Death  of  Csesar '  given  at  Rheinsberg,  and  I  had 
selected  a  rdle;  just  then  the  Emperor  of  Germany  died, 
and  fate  called  me  out  upon  the  great  theatre  of  the  world, 
where  I  have  since  then  tried  to  play  my  part  worthily,  and  I 
must  consecrate  to  this  all  my  strength  and  ability.  I  can 
play  no  other  part!  The  two  rSles  might  make  a  rare  con- 
fusion, and  strange  results  might  follow  should  the  King  of 
Prussia  of  this  morning  be  changed  to  the  Cicero  of  the 
evening,  utter  a  fulminating  speech  against  tyrants,  and  call 
upon  the  noble  Romans  to  defend  their  rights;  while  this 
same  King  of  Prussia  is  a  small  tyrant,  and  his  subjects  are 
more  like  pitiful  slaves  than  heroio  Romans.  I  must,  there- 
fore, confine  myself  to  the  narrow  boundaries  of  a  spectator, 
and  applaud  you  as  heartily  in  your  character  of  Cicero  as 
I  applaud  you  in  that  of  the  great  Voltaire." 

"  And  is  this  indeed  your  intention,  sire  ?  My  poor 
tragedy  lies  in  my  writing-desk,  seemingly  dead;  will  you 
awaken  it  to  life  and  light  ?  " 

"It  shall  be  given  in  two  months,  and  you  shall  con- 
duct it." 

Voltaire's  countenance  darkened  j  his  gay  smile  disap- 
peared, and  lines  of  selfishness  and  covetousness  clouded  the 
brow  of  the  great  poet. 

"  In  two  months,  sire !  "  said  he,  shaking  his  head.  "  I 
fear  I  shall  not  be  here.  I  have  only  come  to  sun  myself  for 
a  few  happy  days  in  your  presence." 

"  And  then  ?  "  said  Frederick,  interrupting  him. 

"  Then  I  must  fulfil  one  of  the  darling  dreams  of  my 
whole  life.  I  must  go  to  Italy,  to  the  holy  city  of  Rome,  and 
kneel  upon  the  graves  of  Cicero  and  Csesar.  I  must  see  St. 
Peter's,  the  Venus  de  Medici,  and  the  pope." 

"  You  will  never  go  to  Rome,"  said  Frederick.     "  The 


380  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

Holy  Father  will  not  have  the  happiness  of  converting  the 
blasphemous  Saul  into  the  pious  and  believing  Paul.  You 
will  remain  in  Berlin;  if  you  do  not  yield  willingly,  I  must 
compel  you  to  yield.  J  will  make  you  my  subject;  I  will 
bind  you  with  orders  and  titles ;  I  will  compel  you  to  accept 
a  salary  from  me;  and  then,  should  they  seek  to  ravish  you 
from  me,  I  will  have  a  right  to  withhold  you  from  all  the  po- 
tentates of  the  world." 

Voltaire's  face  was  again  radiant.  "  Ah !  sire,  no  power 
or  chains  will  be  necessary  to  bind  me  here;  your  majesty's 
command  alone  would  suffice." 

"  And  your  duty !  My  gentleman  of  the  bedchamber  dare 
not  withdraw  himself  for  a  single  day  without  my  permission. 
I  make  you  gentleman  of  the  bedchamber.  I  lay  the  ribbon 
of  my  order,  'pour  le  merite,^  around  your  neck,  and  that 
I  may  always  have  a  rope  around  you,  and  make  you  com- 
pletely my  prisoner,  I  give  you  an  apartment  in  my  palace 
at  Potsdam;  and  that  you  may  not  feel  yourself  a  hermit, 
you  will  have  every  day  six  covers  laid  for  your  friends ;  and 
to  mock  you  with  the  appearance  of  liberty,  you  shall  have 
your  own  equipage  and  servants,  who  will  obey  you  in  all 
things  with  one  exception — if  you  order  your  valet  to  pack 
up  your  effects,  and  your  coachman  to  take  the  road  to  Paris, 
they  will  disobey." 

Voltaire  heard  the  words  of  the  king  with  breathless  at- 
tention. Sullen  suspicion  and  discontent  were  written  on 
his  face.  This  did  not  escape  the  king;  he  understood  the 
cause,  but  he  said  nothing.  Voltaire  exhausted  himself  in 
words  of  joy  and  gratitude,  but  they  had  not  the  ring  of 
truth,  and  the  joy  which  his  lips  expressed  found  no  echo 
in  his  face. 

"  I  have  but  one  other  thing  to  add,"  said  Frederick,  at 
last.  "  Can  your  greatness  pardon  a  poor  earthworm,  if  he 
dare  speak  in  your  presence  of  so  common  and  villanous  a 
thing  as  money  ?  " 

Voltaire's  eyes  sparkled;  the  subject  of  conversation  did 
not  seem  disagreeable  to  him. 

"You.  have  relinquished  a  pension  of  six  thousand 
livres  in  France.  It  is  but  just  that  you  receive  full  com- 
pensation.   Your  great  spirit  is  certainly  above  all  earthly 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    381 

considerations,  but  our  fleshy  existence  has  its  rights.  So 
long  as  you  are  with  me,  you  shall  not  be  troubled  by  even 
a  shadow  of  privation.  You  will  therefore  receive  a  salary 
of  five  thousand  thalers  from  me.  Your  lodging  and  your 
table  cost  you  nothing,  and  I  think  you  can  be  very  comfort- 
able." 

Voltaire's  heart  bounded  for  joy,  but  he  forced  himself 
to  seem  calm  and  indifferent. 

"  Your  majesty  has  forgotten  an  important  matter,"  said 
he.  "  You  have  named  lodging  and  food,  but  you  say  noth- 
ing of  light  and  fire.  I  am  an  old  man,  and  cannot  produce 
them  myself." 

"  Truly  said — ^I  find  it  quite  in  order  that  the  great  free- 
thinker and  poet  of  this  century  is  troubled  for  the  light 
which  should  illuminate  him.  You  shall  have  twelve  pounds 
of  wax-lights  every  month ;  I  think  this  will  be  sufficient  for 
your  purposes.  As  for  the  other  little  necessities  of  life,  have 
the  goodness  to  apply  to  the  castellan  of  the  castle.  On  the 
first  day  of  every  month  he  will  supply  them  regularly.  The 
contract  is  made ;  you  will  remain  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  remain,  sire ! — not  for  the  title,  or  the  pension,  or  the 
order — I  remain  with  you,  because  I  love  you.  My  heart 
offers  up  to  you  the  dream  of  my  life,  my  journey  to  Italy. 
Oh,  I  wish  I  could  make  greater,  more  dangerous  sacrifices ! 
I  wish  I  could  find  a  means  to  prove  my  love,  my  adoration, 
my  worship !  " 

The  king  laid  his  hand  softly  on  Voltaire's  shoulder,  and 
looked  earnestly  in  his  eyes. 

"  Be  as  good  a  man  as  you  are  a  great  poet.  That  is  the 
most  beautiful  offering  you  can  bring  me." 

"  Ah !  I  see,"  said  Voltaire,  enraged ;  "  some  one  has 
slandered  me.  Your  majesty  has  opened  your  ears  to  my 
enemies,  and  already  their  hellish  poison  has  reached  your 
heart.  As  they  cannot  destroy  Voltaire  the  poet,  they  seize 
upon  Voltaire  the  man,  and  slander  his  character  because 
they  cannot  obscure  his  fame.  I  will  advance  to  meet  them 
with  an  open  visor  and  without  a  shield.  From  their  place 
of  ambush,  with  their  poisoned  arrows,  let  them  slay  me. 
It  is  better  to  die  than  to  be  suspected  and  contemned  by  my 
great  and  worshipped  king." 


882  BEBLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCl;  OR, 

"  See,  now,  what  curious  creatures  you  poets  are  1 "  said 
Frederick ;  "  always  in  wild  tumult  and  agitation ;  either 
storming  heaven  or  hell;  contending  with  demons,  or  revel- 
ling with  angels!  You  have  no  daily  quiet,  patience,  and 
perseverance.  If  you  see  a  man  who  tells  you  he  is  plant- 
ing potatoes,  you  do  not  believe  him — you  convince  your- 
self he  is  sowing  dragons'  teeth  to  raise  an  army  to  contend 
against  you.  If  you  meet  one  of  your  fellows  with  a  par- 
ticularly quiet  aspect,  you  are  sure  you  can  read  curses 
against  you  upon  his  lip.  When  one  begs  you  to  be  good,  you 
look  upon  it  as  an  accusation.  No,  no,  my  poet !  no  one  has 
poured  the  poison  of  slander  into  my  ears — no  one  has  ac- 
cused you  to  me.  I  am,  moreover,  accustomed  to  form  my 
own  conclusions,  and  the  Opinions  of  others  have  but  little 
weight  with  me." 

"But  your  majesty  is  pleased  to  lend  your  ears  to  my 
enemies,"  said  Voltaire,  sullenly ;  "  exactly  those  who  attack 
me  most  virulently  receive  the  highest  honors  at  the  hands 
of  your  majesty.  You  are  as  cruel  with  me  as  a  beautiful 
and  ravishing  coquette.  So  soon  as  by  a  love-glance  you 
have  made  me  the  happiest  of  men,  you  turn  away  with  cold 
contempt,  and  smile  alluringly  upon  my  rivals.  I  have  yet 
two  dagger-strokes  in  my  heart,  which  cause  me  death-agony. 
If  your  majesty  would  make  me  truly  happy,  you  must  cure 
the  wounds  with  your  own  hands." 

"  I  will,  if  it  is  possible,"  said  the  king,  gravely.  "  Let  us 
hear  of  what  you  complain." 

"  Sire,  your  majesty  has  made  Fr6ron  your  correspondent 
in  Paris — Freron,  my  most  bitter  enemy,  my  irreconcil- 
able adversary.  But  it  is  not  because  he  is  my  foe  that  I 
entreat  you  to  dismiss  him ;  you  will  not  think  so  pitifully  of 
me  as  to  suppose  that  this  is  the  reason  I  entreat  you  to  dis- 
miss him  from  your  service.  My  personal  dislike  will  not 
make  me  blind  to  the  worth  of  Freron  as  a  writer.  No, 
sire,  Freron  is  not  worthy  of  your  favor ;  he  is  an  openly  dis- 
honored scoundrel,  who  has  committed  more  than  one  com- 
mon fraud.  You  may  imagine  what  an  excitement  it  pro- 
duced in  Paris  when  it  was  known  that  you  had  honored  this 
scamp  with  a  position  which  should  be  filled  by  a  man  of 
wisdom  and  integrity.     Freron  is  only  my  enemy  because. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    383 

in  spite  of  all  entreaties,  I  have  closed  my  house  upon  him. 
I  took  this  step  for  reasons  which  should  have  closed  the 
doors  of  every  respectable  house  against  him.*  Sire,  I  im- 
plore you,  do  not  let  the  world  believe  far  a  single  day  longer 
that  Freron  is  your  correspondent.  Dismiss  him  at  once 
from  your  service." 

The  king  did  not  reply  for  a  few  moments;  he  walked 
backward  and  fonvard  several  times,  then  stood  quietly  be- 
fore Voltaire.     The  expression  of  his  eye  was  stern. 

**  I  sacrifice  Freron  to  you,"  said  he,  "  because  I  will 
deny  you  nothing  on  this,  the  day  of  your  arrival;  but  I  re- 
peat to  you  what  I  said  before,  '  be  not  only  a  great  poet, 
be  also  a  good  man.'  " 

Voltaire  shook  his  head,  sadly.  "  Sire,"  said  he,  "  in 
your  eyes  I  am  not  a  great  poet,  only  un  soleil  couchant 
Remember  Arnaud,  my  pupil,  whom  I  sent  to  you !  " 

"  Aha !  "  cried  the  king,  laughing,  "  you  have,  then,  read 
my  little  poem  to  Arnaud  ?  " 

"  Sire,  I  have  read  it,  and  that  was  the  second  dagger- 
stroke  which  I  received  on  this  journey,  to  which  my  loving 
heart  forced  my  weak  and  shrinking  body ;  I  felt  that  I  must 
see  you  once  more  before  I  died.  Yes,  I  have  read  this  ter- 
rible poem,  and  the  lines  have  burned  into  my  heart  these 
cruel  words : 

•  D^j^  Bans  etre  t^m^ralre,  ^ 

Pronant  votre  vol  jusqu'aux  oieus, 

Vous  pouvez  4galer  Voltaire, 

Et  prcB  de  Virgile  et  d'Homere. 

Jouir  de  voa  succes  heureux, 

D^ja  1' A  pollen  de  la  France, 

S'achemine  h  sa  decadence, 

Venez  brill  er  h  votre  tour, 

Elevez  vous  s'il  brille  encore ; 

Ainei  le  couchant  d'un  beau  jour, 

Promet  une  plus  belle  aurore.' "  t 

"Yes,"  said  the  king,  as  Voltaire  ceased  declaiming,  and 
stood  in  rather  a  tragic  attitude  before  him — "  yes,  I  confess 
that  a  sensitive  nature  like  yours  might  find  a  thorn  in  these 
*  Voltaire's  own  words, 
t  Supplement  des  CEuvres  Postiiuajes, 


384  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

innocent  rhymes.  My  only  intention  was  to  give  to  the  little 
Arnaud  a  few  roses  which  he  might  weave  into  a  wreath  of 
fame.  It  seems  I  fulfilled  my  purpose  poorly;  it  was  high 
time  that  Voltaire  should  come  to  teach  me  to  make  better 
verses.  See,  I  confess  my  injustice,  and  I  allow  you  to  punish 
me  by  writing  a  poem  against  me,  which  shall  be  published 
as  extensively  as  my  little  verse  to  Arnaud." 

"  Does  your  majesty  promise  me  this  little  revenge  in 
earnest  ? " 

"  I  promise  it ;  give  me  your  poem  as  soon  as  it  is  ready ; 
it  shall  be  published  in  *  Formey's  Journal.' " 

"  Sire,  it  is  ready :  hear  it  now.* 

'  Quel  diable  de  Marc  Antoino ! 
Et  quelle  malice  est  le  votre, 
Vous  egratinez  d'une  main 
Lorsque  vous  caressez  de  I'autre.' " 

"Ah,"  said  Frederick,  "what  a  beautiful  quatrain  Mon- 
sieur Arouet  has  made." 

"  Arouet !  "  said  Voltaire,  astonished. 

"  Well,  now,  you  would  not  surely  wish  me  to  believe  that 
this  little  stinging,  pitiful  rhyme,  was  written  by  the  great 
Voltaire.  No,  no!  this  is  the  work  of  the  young  Arouet, 
and  we  will  have  it  published  with  his  signature." 

Voltaire  fixed  his  great  eyes  for  a  moment  angrily  upon 
the  handsome  face  of  the  king,  then  bowed  his  head  and 
looked  down  thoughtfully.  There  was  a  pause,  and  his  face 
assumed  a  noble  expression — he  was  again  the  great  poet. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  softly,  "  I  will  not  have  this  poem  pub- 
lished. You  are  right,  Voltaire  does  not  acknowledge  it. 
This  poor  verse  was  written  by  Arouet,  or  the  *  old  Adam,' 
who  often  strikes  the  poet  Voltaire  slyly  in  the  back.  But 
you,  sire,  who  have  already  won  five  battles,  and  who  find  a 
few  morning  hours  sufficient  to  govern  a  great  kingdom  with 
wisdom,  consideration,  and  love;  you,  by  one  kindiy  glance 
of  your  eye,  will  be  able  to  banish  the  old  Adam,  and  call 
heavenly  hymns  df  love  and  praise  from  the  lips  of  Vol- 
taire." 

"  I  shall  be  content  with  hymns  of  love.  I  will  spare  you 
*  CEuvree  Cotnpldtee  de  Voltjiire, 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    385 

all   eulogy,"   cried   Frederick,   giving   his   hand   warmly   to 
Voltaire. 

At  the  close  of  the  first  day  at  Sang-Souci,  the  new  gentle- 
man of  the  bedchamber  returned  to  Potsdam,  adorned  with 
the  order  ^^  Pour  le  merite,'''  and  a  written  assurance  from 
the  king  of  a  pension  of  five  thousand  thalers  in  his  pocket. 

Two  richly-liveried  servants  received  him  at  the  gate  of 
the  palace ;  one  of  them  held  a  silver  candelabrum,  in  which 
five  wax-lights  were  burning.  Voltaire  leaned,  exhausted 
and  groaning,  upon  the  arm  of  the  other,  who  almost  carried 
him  into  his  apartment.  Voltaire  ordered  the  servant  to 
place  the  lights  on  the  table,  and  to  wait  in  the  anteroom  for 
further  orders. 

Scarcely  had  the  servant  left  the  room  when  Voltaire, 
who  had  thrown  himself,  as  if  perfectly  exhausted,  in  the 
arm-chair,  sprang  up  actively  and  hastened  to  the  table  upon 
which  the  candelabrum  stood;  raising  himself  on  tiptoe,  he 
blew  out  three  of  the  lights. 

"  Two  are  enough,"  said  he,  with  a  grimace.  "  I  am  to 
receive  twelve  pounds  of  wax-lights  a  month.  I  will  be  very 
economical,  and  out  of  the  proceeds  of  this  self-denial  I  can 
'ealize  a  little  pin-money  for  my  niece,  Denis."  He  took  the 
candelabrum  and  entered  his  study. 

It  was  curious  to  look  upon  this  lonely,  wrinkled,  decrepit 
old  man,  in  the  richly-furnished  but  half -obscure  room;  the 
dull  light  illuminated  his  malicious  but  smiling  face;  here 
and  there  as  he  advanced  it  flashed  upon  the  gilding,  or  was 
reflected  in  a  mirror,  while  behind  him  the  gloom  of  night 
seemed  to  have  thrown  an  impenetrable  veil. 

Voltaire  seated  himself  at  his  desk  and  wrote  to  his  niece, 
Madame  Denis :  "  I  have  bound  myself  with  all  legal  form 
to  the  King  of  Prussia.  My  marriage  with  him  is  deter- 
mined upon.  Will  it  be  happy?  I  do  not  know.  I  could 
no  longer  postpone  the  decisive  yes.  After  coquetting  for 
so  many  years,  a  wedding  was  the  necessary  consequence. 
How  my  heart  beat  at  the  altar!  How  could  I  have  sup- 
posed, seven  months  ago,  when  we  arranged  our  little  house 
in  Paris,  that  I  should  be  to-day  three  hundred  leagues  from 
home  in  another  man's  house,  and  this  other  a  ruler  l"** 
*  CEuvres  Completes,  301. 


386  BERLIN  AKD  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

At  the  same  moment  wrote  Frederick,  King  of  Prussia,  to 
xilgarotti :  "  Voltaire  is  here ;  he  has  of  late,  as  you  know, 
been  guilty  of  an  act  tmworthy  of  him.  He  deserves  to  be 
branded  upon  Parnassus.  It  is  a  shame  that  so  base  a  soul 
should  be  united  to  so  exalted  a  genius.  Of  all  this,  how- 
ever, I  shall  take  no  notice;  he  is  necessary  to  me  in  my 
study  of  the  French  language.  One  can  learn  beautiful, 
things  from  an  evil-doer.  I  must  learn  his  French.  I  have 
nothing  to  do  with  his  morals.  He  unites  in  himself  the 
strangest  opposites.  The  world  worships  his  genius  and  de- 
spises his  character."  * 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  COiTFIDKNCE-TABLE. 

"AND  now,  friends,  let  us  be  joyful,  and  forget  all  the 
cares  and  sorrows  of  the  world,"  cried  the  king,  with  a  ring- 
ing laugh ;  "  raise  your  glasses  and  strike  them  merrily. 
Long  life  to  mirth,  to  jest,  to  joy !  " 

The  glasses  -were  raised,  and  as  they  met  they  rang  out 
cheerily;  they  were  pressed  to  the  lips  and  emptied  at  a 
draught;  the  guests  then  seated  themselves  silently  at  the 
table.  Frederick  glanced  at  the  circle  of  his  friends  who  sat 
with  him  at  the  round  table ;  his  eyes  dwelt  searchingly  upon 
every  laughing  face,  then  turned  to  the  garden  of  Sans- 
Souci,  which  sent  its  perfumed  breath,  its  song  of  birds, 
its  evening  breeze,  through  the  open  doors  and  windows, 
while  the  moon,  rising  in  cloudless  majesty,  shone  down 
upon  them  and  rivalled  with  her  silver  rays  the  myriads  of 
wax-lights  which  glittered  in  the  crystal  chandeliers. 

"  This  is  a  glorious  evening,"  said  the  king,  "  and  we  will 
enjoy  it  gloriously." 

He  ordered  the  servants  to  close  the  doors,  place  the  des- 
sert and  champagne  upon  the  table,  and  leave  the  room. 

*  OCuvres  de  Fr^d^ric  le  Grand. 


PREDEEICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    387 

!N'oiselessly  and  silently  this  command  was  fulfilled.  Fred- 
erick then  greeted  each  one  of  his  guests  with  a  kindly  nod- 

"  Welcome,  thrice  welcome  are  you  all !  "  said  he.  "  I 
have  longed  to  have  you  all  together,  and  now,  at  last,  you 
are  here.  There  sits  Voltaire,  whose  divine  Emile  was  de- 
livered first  of  a  book,  then  of  a  child,  and  then  released 
from  life  before  he  was  free  to  come  to  Berlin.  There  is 
Algarotti,  the  swan  of  Italy,  who  spreads  his  wings  and 
would  gladly  fly  to  the  land  of  oranges  and  myrtles.  There 
is  La  Mettrie,  who  only  remains  here  because  he  is  con- 
vinced that  my  Cape  wine  is  pure,  and  my  pdtds  de  foie  gran 
truly  from  Strasbourg.  There  is  D'Argens,  who  sought 
safety  in  Prussia  because  in  every  other  land  in  Europe  there 
are  sweethearts  waiting  and  sighing  for  him,  to  whom  he 
has  sworn  a  thousand  oaths  of  constancy.  There  is  Bastiani, 
who  only  remains  with  us  while  the  Silesian  dames,  who 
have  frankly  confessed  their  sins  to  him  and  been  absolved, 
find  time  and  opportunity  to  commit  other  peccadilloes, 
which  they  will  do  zealously,  in  order  to  confess  them  once 
more  to  the  handsome  Abbe  Bastiani.  And  lastly,  there  is 
my  Lord  Marshal,  the  noblest  and  best  of  all,  whose  pres- 
ence we  owe  to  the  firmness  of  his  political  principles  and  the 
misfortunes  of  the  house  of  Stuart." 

"  And  there  is  the  Solomon  of  the  North,"  cried  Voltaire 
— "  there  is  Frederick,  the  youngest  of  us  all,  and  the  wasest 
— the  philosopher  of  Sans-Souci.  There  sits  Apollo,  son  of 
the  gods,  who  has  descended  from  Olympus  to  be  our  king." 

"  Let  us  not  speak  of  kings,"  said  Frederick.  "  When 
the  sun  goes  down  there  is  no  king  at  Sans-Souci;  he  leaves 
the  house  and  retires  into  another  castle,  God  only  knows 
where.  We  are  all  equal  and  wholly  sans  gene.  At  this 
table,  there  are  no  distinctions;  we  are  seven  friends,  who 
laugh  and  chat  freely  with  each  other;  or,  if  you  prefer  it, 
seven  wise  men." 

"  This  is  then  the  Confidence-Table,"  said  Voltaire,  "  of 
which  D'Argens  has  so  often  spoken  to  me,  and  which  has 
seemed  to  me  like  the  Eound-Table  of  King  Arthur.  Long 
live  the  Confidence-Table !  " 

"  It  shall  live,"  cried  the  king,  "  and  we  will  each  one 
honor  this,  our  first  sitting,  by  showing  our  confidence  iu 
25 


388  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

each  other.  Every  one  shall  relate  something  piquant  and 
strange  of  his  past  life,  some  lively  anecdote,  or  some  sweet 
little  mystery  which  we  dare  trust  to  our  friends,  but  not 
to  our  wives.     The  oldest  begins  first." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  that,"  said  Voltaire,  "  but  your  maj- 
esty must  confess  that  my  heart  has  neither  white  hair  nor 
wrinkles.  Old  age  is  a  terrible  old  woman  who  slides  quiet- 
ly, grinning  and  threatening,  behind  every  man,  and  watches 
the  moment  when  she  dares  lay  upon  him  the  mask  of  weary 
years  through  which  he  has  lived  and  suffered.  She  has, 
alas!  fastened  her  wrinkled  mask  upon  my  face,  but  my 
heart  is  young  and  green,  and  if  the  women  were  not  so 
short-sighted  as  to  look  only  upon  my  outward  visage,  if 
they  would  condescend  to  look  within,  they  would  no  longer 
call  me  the  old  Voltaire,  but  would  love  and  adore  me,  even 
as  they  did  in  my  youth." 

"  Listen  well,  friends,  he  will  no  doubt  tell  us  of  some 
duchess  who  placed  him  upon  an  altar  and  bowed  down  and 
worshipped  him." 

"  No,  sire,  I  will  tell  you  of  an  injury,  the  bitterest  I  ever 
experienced,  and  which  I  can  never  forget." 

"  As  if  he  had  ever  forgotten  an  injury,  unless  he  had 
revenged  it  threefold !  "  cried  D'Argens. 

"  And  chopped  up  his  enemy  for  pastry  and  eaten  him," 
said  La  Mettrie. 

"  Truly,  if  I  should  eat  all  my  enemies,  I  should  suffer 
from  an  everlasting  indigestion,  and,  in  my  despair,  I  might 
fly  to  La  Mettrie  for  help.  It  is  well  known  that  when  you 
suffer  from  incurable  diseases,  you  seek,  at  last,  counsel  of 
the  quack." 

"  You  forget  that  La  Mettrie  is  a  regular  physician," 
said  the  king,  with  seeming  earnestness. 

"  On  the  contrary,  he  remembered  it  well,"  said  La  Met- 
trie, smiling.  "  The  best  physician  is  the  greatest  quack, 
or  the  most  active  grave-digger,  if  you  prefer  it." 

"Silence!"  said  the  king.  "Voltaire  has  the  floor;  he 
will  tell  us  of  the  greatest  offence  he  ever  received.  Give 
attention." 

"Alas!  my  heart  is  sad,  sire;  of  all  other  pain,  the  pain 
of  looking  back  into  the  past  is  the  most  bitter.     I  see  myself 


FEEDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    389 

again  a  young  man,  the  Arouet  to  whom  Ninon  de  I'Enclos 
gave  her  library  and  a  pension,  and  who  was  confined  for 
twenty  years  to  the  Bastile  because  he  loved  God  and  the 
king  too  little,  and  the  charming  Marquise  de  Villiers  and 
some  other  ladies  of  the  court  too  much.  Besides  these  ex- 
alted ladies,  there  was  a  beautiful  young  maiden  whom  I 
loved — perhaps  because  she  had  one  quality  which  I  had 
never  remarked  in  the  possession  of  my  more  noble  mis- 
tresses— she  was  innocent!  Ah,  friends,  you  should  have 
seen  Phillis,  and  you  would  have  confessed  that  no  rose-bud 
was  lovelier,  no  lily  purer,  than  she.  Phillis  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  gypsy  and  a  mouse-catcher,  and  danced  on  the  tight- 
rope in  the  city-gardens." 

"  Ah,  it  appears  to  me  the  goddess  of  innocence  dances 
always  upon  the  tight-rope  in  this  world,"  said  the  king. 
"  I  should  not  be  surprised  to  hear  that  even  your  little 
Phillis  had  a  fall." 

"  Sire,  she  fell,  but  in  my  arms ;  and  we  swore  eternal 
love  and  constancy.  You  all  know  from  experience  the 
quality  and  fate  of  such  oaths;  they  are  the  kindling-wood 
upon  which  the  fire  of  love  is  sustained;  but,  alas,  kindling 
and  fire  soon  burnt  out!  Who  is  responsible?  Our  fire 
burned  long;  but,  think  you  my  Phillis,  whom  I  had  re- 
moved from  the  tight-rope,  and  exalted  to  a  dancer  upon  the 
stage,  was  so  innocent  and  naive  as  to  believe  that  our  love 
must  at  last  be  crowned  with  marriage !  I,  however,  was  a 
republican,  and  feared  all  crowns.  I  declared  that  Ninon 
de  I'Enclos  had  made  me  swear  never  to  marry,  lest  my 
grandchildren  should  fall  in  love  with  me,  as  hers  had  done 
with  her." 

"Precaution  is  praiseworthy,"  said  La  Mettrie.  "The 
devil's  grandmother  had  also  a  husband,  and  her  grandsons 
might  have  fallen  in  love  with  her." 

"  Phillis  did  not  take  me  for  the  devil's  grandfather,  but 
for  the  devil  himself.  She  cried,  and  shrieked,  and  cast  my 
oaths  of  constancy  in  my  teeth.  I  did  not  die  of  remorse, 
nor  she  of  love,  and  to  prove  her  constancy,  she  married  a 
rich  Duke  de  Ventadour." 

"  And  you,  no  doubt,  gave  away  the  bride,  and  swore  you 
b^d  never  knovm  a  purer  woman  I " 


/ 


390  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

"  No,  sire,  I  was  at  that  time  again  in  the  Bastile,  and 
left  it  only  as  an  exile  from  France.  When  at  last  I  was 
allowed  to  return  to  Paris,  I  sought  out  my  Duchess  de 
Ventadour,  my  Phillis  of  former  times.  I  found  her  a  dis- 
tinguished lady;  she  had  forgotten  the  follies  of  her  youth; 
had  forgotten  her  father,  the  rope-dancer;  her  mother,  the 
mouse-catcher.  She  had  no  remembrance  of  the  young 
Arouet,  to  whom  she  had  sworn  to  say  only  *  tn '  and  *  ioi^ 
Now  she  was  grave  and  dignified,  and  'Fbtes,  niojisieitr,'  was 
on  her  fair  lip.  Thanks  to  the  heraldry  oflSce,  she  had  be- 
come the  daughter  of  a  distinguished  Spaniard,  blessed  with 
at  least  seven  ancestors.  Phillis  gave  good  dinners,  had 
good  wine,  and  the  world  overlooked  her  somewhat  obscure 
lineage.  She  was  the  acknowledged  and  respected  Duchess 
Ventadour.  She  was  still  beautiful,  but  quite  deaf;  conse- 
quently her  voice  was  loud  and  coarse,  when  she  believed  her- 
self to  be  whispering.  She  invited  me  to  read  some  selec- 
tions from  my  new  work  in  her  saloon,  and  I  was  weak 
enough  to  accept  the  invitation.  I  had  just  completed  my 
*  Brutus,'  and  burned  with  ambition  to  receive  the  applause 
of  the  Parisiennes.  I  commenced  to  read  aloud  my  tragedy 
of  *  Brutus '  in  the  saloon  of  the  duchess,  surrounded  by  a 
circle  of  distinguished  nobles,  eminent  in  knowledge  and 
art.  I  was  listened  to  in  breathless  attention.  In  the 
deep  silence  which  surrounded  me,  in  the  glowing  eyes  of 
my  audience,  in  the  murmurs  of  applause  which  greeted  me, 
I  saw  that  I  was  still  Voltaire,  and  that  the  hangman's  hands, 
which  had  burned  my  '  Lettres  Philosophiques,^  had  not  de- 
stroyed my  fame  or  extinguished  my  genius.  While  I  read, 
a  servant  entered  upon  tiptoe,  to  rekindle  the  fire.  The 
Duchess  Ventadour  sat  near  the  chimney.  She  whispered, 
or  thought  she  whispered,  to  her  servant.  I  read  a  little 
louder  to  drown  her  words.  I  was  in  the  midst  of  one  of  the 
grandest  scenes  of  my  tragedy.  My  own  heart  trembled 
with  emotion.  Here  and  there  I  saw  eyes,  which  were  not 
wont  to  weep,  filled  with  tears,  and  heard  sighs  from  trem- 
bling lips,  accustomed  only  to  laughter  and  smiles.  And 
now  I  came  to  the  soliloquy  of  Brutus.  He  was  resolving 
whether  he  would  sacrifice  his  son's  life  to  his  fatherland. 
There  was  a  solemn  pause,  and  now,  in  the  midst  of  the  pro- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     391 

found  silence,  the  Duchess  Ventadour  in  a  shrill  voice,  which 
she  believed  to  be  inaudible,  said  to  her  servant :  *  Do  not 
fail  to  serve  mustard  with  the  pig's  head ! '  " 

A  peal  of  laughter  interrupted  Voltaire,  in  which  he 
reluctantly  joined,  being  completely  carried  away  by  the 
general  mirth. 

"  That  was  indeed  very  piquant,  and  I  think  you  must 
have  been  greatly  encouraged." 

"Did  you  eat  of  the  pig's  head,  or  were  your  teeth  on 
edge?" 

"  No,  they  were  sharp  enough  to  bite,  and  I  bit !    In  my 

first  rage  I  closed  my  book,  and  cried  out :  *  Madame 1 

Well!  as  you  have  a  pig's  head,  you  do  not  require  that 
Brutus  should  offer  up  the  head  of  his  son  I '  I  was  on  the 
point  of  leaving  the  room,  but  the  poor  duchess,  who  was 
just  beginning  to  comprehend  her  unfortunate  interruption, 
hastened  after  me,  and  entreated  me  so  earnestly  to  remain 
and  read  further,  that  I  consented.  I  remained  and  read, 
but  not  from  *  Brutus.'  My  rage  made  me,  for  the  moment, 
an  improvisator.  Seated  near  to  the  duchess,  surrounded  by 
the  proud  and  hypocritical  nobles,  who  acknowledged  Phillis 
only  because  she  had  a  fine  house  and  gave  good  dinners,  I 
improvised  a  poem  which  recalled  to  the  grand  duchess  and 
her  satellites  the  early  days  of  the  fair  Phillis,  and  brought 
the  laugh  on  my  side.  My  poen:  was  called  '  Le  tu  et  le  vousJ' 
Kow,  gentlemen,  this  is  the  story  of  my  *  Brutus '  and  the 
pig's  head." 

"  I  acknowledge  that  it  is  a  good  story.  It  will  be  diffi- 
cult for  you,  D'Argens,  to  relate  so  good  a  one,"  said  the 
king. 

"  I  dare  not  make  the  attempt,  sire.  Voltaire  was  ever 
the  child  of  good  forttme,  and  his  life  and  adventures  have 
been  extraordinary,  while  I  was  near  sharing  the  common 
fate  of  younger  sons.     I  was  destined  for  the  priesthood." 

"That's  a  droll  idea,  indeed!"  said  Frederick.  "D'Ar- 
gens, who  believes  in  nothing,  intended  for  a  priest!  How 
did  you  escape  this  danger  ? " 

"  Through  the  example  of  my  dear  brother,  who  was  of  a 
passionate  piety,  and  became  in  the  school  of  the  Jesuits  so 
complete  a  fanatic  and  bigot  that  he  thundered  out  his  fierce 


392  BERLIN  AKD  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

tirades  against  all  earthly  joys  and  pastimes,  no  matter  how 
innocent  they  were.  To  resemble  the  holy  Xavier  and  the 
sanctified  and  childlike  Alois  Gonzago,  was  his  highest  ideal. 
In  the  extremity  of  his  piety  and  prudery  he  slipped  into  the 
art-gallery  of  our  eldest  brother  and  destroyed  Titian's  most 
splendid  paintings  and  the  glorious  statues  of  the  olden 
time.  He  gloried  in  this  act,  and  called  it  a  holy  offering  to 
virtue.  He  could  not  understand  that  it  was  vandalism. 
Our  family  had  serious  fears  for  the  intellect  of  this  poor 
young  saint,  maddened  by  the  fanaticism  of  the  Jesuits. 
They  sought  counsel  of  the  oldest  and  wisest  of  our  house, 
the  Bishop  of  Bannes.  After  thinking  awhile,  the  bishop 
said :  *  I  will  soon  cure  the  young  man  of  this  folly ;  I  will 
make  him  a  priest.'  " 

"  Truly,  your  uncle,  the  bishop,  was  a  wise  man ;  he  drove 
out  folly  with  folly.  He  knew  well  that  no  one  had  less 
reverence  for  the  churches  than  those  who  have  built  them, 
and  are  their  priests." 

"  That  was  the  opinion  of  my  very  worthy  uncle.  He  said, 
with  a  sly  laugh :  '  When  he  has  heard  a  few  confessions,  he 
will  understand  the  ways  of  the  world  better ! '  The  bishop 
was  right.  My  brother  was  consecrated.  In  a  short  time  he 
became  very  tolerant  and  considerate,  as  a  man  and  as  a 
father  confessor." 

"  But  you  have  not  told  us,  marquis,  how  the  fanaticism 
of  your  brother  liberated  you  from  the  tonsure  ? "  said  the 
king. 

"  My  father  found  I  would  commence  my  priestly  life 
with  as  much  intolerance  as  my  brother  had  done.  He 
therefore  proposed  to  me  to  consecrate  myself  to  the  world, 
and,  instead  of  praying  in  the  church,  to  fight  for  the 
cross.  The  thought  pleased  me,  and  I  became  a  Knight  of 
Malta." 

"Your  first  deed  of  arms  was,  without  doubt,  to  seat 
yourself  and  write  your  '  Lettres  Juives,' "  said  the  king; 
"  those  inspiring  letters  in  which  the  knight  of  the  cross 
mocks  at  Christianity  and  casts  his  glove  as  a  challenge  to 
revealed  religion." 

"  No,  sire,  I  began  my  knightly  course  by  entering  the 
land  of  heathen  and  idolaters,  to  see  if  a  man  could  be 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    303 

truly  happy  and  contented  in  a  land  where  there  was  neither 
Messiah  nor  crucifix — I  went  to  Turkey." 

"  But  you  carried  your  talisman  with  you  ? "  said  the 
Abbe  Bastiani — "  you  wore  the  cross  upon  your  mantle  ?  " 

"  A  remark  worthy  of  our  pious  abbe,"  said  Frederick ; 
"  no  one  knows  better  the  protecting  power  of  the  cross  than 
the  priest  who  founded  it.  Tell  us,  marquis,  did  your  talis- 
man protect  you?  Did  you  become  an  apostate  to  the  true 
faith?" 

"  Sire,  I  wished  first  to  see  their  temples  and  their  mode 
of  worship,  before  I  decided  whether  I  would  be  an  unbe- 
lieving believer  or  a  believing  unbeliever." 

"  I  think,"  said  Voltaire,  "  you  have  never  been  a  be- 
liever, or  made  a  convert ;  you  have  made  nothing  but  debts." 

"  That  is,  perhaps,  because  I  am  not  a  great  writer,  and  do 
not  understand  usury  and  speculation,"  said  D'Argens,  quiet- 
ly. "  Besides,  no  courtesan  made  me  her  heir,  and  no  mis- 
tress obtained  me  a  pension !  " 

"  Look  now,"  said  the  king,  "  our  good  marquis  is  learn- 
ing from  you,  Voltaire ;  he  is  learning  to  scratch  and  bite." 

"  Yes,"  said  Voltaire ;  "  there  are  creatures  whom  all 
men  imitate,  even  in  their  vile  passions  and  habits;  perhaps 
they  take  them  for  virtues." 

The  face  of  the  marquis  was  suffused;  he  rose  angrily, 
and  was  about  to  answer,  but  the  king  laid  his  hand  upon 
his  arm.  "  Do  not  reply  to  him ;  you  know  that  our  great 
poet  changes  himself  sometimes  into  a  wicked  tiger,  and  does 
not  understand  the  courtly  language  of  men.  Do  not  re- 
gard him,  but  go  on  with  your  story." 

The  king  drew  back  his  hand  suddenly,  and,  seemingly 
by  accident,  touched  the  silver  salt-cellar;  it  fell  and  scat- 
tered the  salt  upon  the  table.  The  marquis  uttered  a  light 
cry,  and  turned  pale. 

"  Alas !  "  cried  the  king,  with  well-affected  horror,  "  what 
a  misfortune !  Quick,  quick,  my  friends !  let  us  use  an  anti- 
dote against  the  wiles  of  the  demons,  which  our  good  mar- 
quis maintains  springs  always  from  an  overturned  salt-cellar. 
Quick,  quick !  take  each  of  you  a  pinch  of  salt,  and  throw  it 
upon  the  burners  of  the  chandeliers;  listen  how  it  crackles 
and  splutters!     These  are  the  evil  spirits  in  hell-fire,  are 


394  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

they  not,  marquis?  Now  let  each  oue  take  another  pinch, 
and  throw  it,  laughing  merrily,  over  the  left  shoulder.  You, 
Voltaire,  take  the  largest  portion,  and  cast  it  from  you;  I 
think  you  have  always  too  much  salt,  and  your  most  beauti- 
ful poems  are  thereby  made  unpalatable." 

"  Ah,  sire,  you  speak  of  the  salt  of  my  wit.  No  one  re- 
members that  the  tears  which  have  bathed  my  face  have 
fallen  upon  my  lips,  and  become  crystallized  into  biting  sar- 
casms. Only  the  wretched  and  sorely  tried  are  sharp  of  wit 
and  bitter  of  speech." 

"  Not  so,"  said  La  Mettrie ;  "  these  things  are  the  conse- 
quence of  bad  digestion.  This  machine  is  not  acted  upon 
by  what  you  poets  call  spirit,  and  I  call  brain ;  it  reacts  upon 
itself.  When  a  man  is  melancholy,  it  comes  from  his  stom- 
ach. To  be  gay  and  cheery,  to  have  your  spirits  clear  and 
fresh,  you  have  nothing  more  to  do  than  to  eat  heartily  and 
have  a  good  digestion.  Moliere  could  not  have  written  such 
glorious  comedies  if  he  had  fed  upon  sour  krout  and  old 
peas,  instead  of  the  woodcock,  grouse,  and  truffles  which  fell 
to  him  from  King  Louis's  table.  Man  is  only  a  machine, 
nothing  more." 

"La  Mettrie,  I  will  give  you  to-morrow  nothing  but 
grouse  and  truffles  to  eat :  woe  to  you,  then,  if  the  day  after 
you  do  npt  write  me  just  such  a  comedy  as  Moliere's!  But 
we  entirely  forget  that  the  marquis  owes  us  the  conclusion 
of  his  story;  we  left  him  a  Knight  of  Malta,  and  we  cannot 
abandon  him  in  this  position ;  that  would  be  to  condemn  him 
to  piety  and  virtue.  Go  on,  dear  marquis,  we  have  thrown 
the  salt  and  banished  the  demons — go  on,  then,  with  your 
history." 

"  Well,"  said  the  marquis,  "  to  relate  it  is  less  dangerous 
than  to  live  through  it.  I  must  confess,  however,  that  the 
perils  of  life  have  also  their  charms.  I  wished,  as  I  had  the 
honor  to  say  to  you,  to  witness  a  religious  service  in  the 
great  mosque  at  Constantinople,  and  by  my  prayers,  sup- 
ported by  a  handful  of  gold  pieces,  I  succeeded  in  convincing 
the  Turk,  who  had  the  care  of  the  key  to  the  superb  Sophia, 
that  it  was  not  an  unpardonable  sin  to  allow  an  unbelieving 
Christian  to  witness  the  holy  worship  of  an  unbelieving 
Mussuhnen.    Indeed,  he  risked  nothing  but  the  bastinado; 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    395 

while  I,  if  discovered,  would  be  given  over  to  the  hangman, 
and  could  only  escape  my  fate  by  becoming  a  Mussulman," 

"  What  an  earnest  and  profitable  Christian  Holy  Mother 
Church  would  thus  have  lost  in  the  author  of  Les  Lettres 
Juives!"  said  Frederick,  laughing. 

"  But  what  an  exquisite  harem  the  city  of  Constantinople 
would  have  won !  "  cried  Voltaire. 

"  What  a  happiness  for  you,  my  Lord  Marshal,  that  your 
beautiful  Mohammedan  was  not  then  born;  the  marquis 
would  without  doubt  have  bought  her  from  you ! " 

"  If  Zuleima  will  allow  herself  to  be  bought,  there  will 
be  nothing  to  pay,"  said  Lord  Marshal,  with  a  soft  smile. 

"  You  are  right,  my  lord,"  said  the  marquis,  with  a 
meaning  side  glance  at  Voltaire,  "  you  are  right ;  nothing 
is  more  despicable  than  the  friendship  which  can  be  pur- 
chased." 

"  You  succeeded,  however,  in  bribing  the  good  Mussul- 
man," said  Algarotti,  "  and  enjoyed  the  unheard-of  happiness 
of  witnessing  their  worship." 

"  Yes,  the  night  before  a  grand  fSte,  my  Turk  led  me 
to  the  mosque,  and  hid  me  behind  a  great  picture  which  was 
placed  before  one  of  the  doors  of  the  tribune.  This  was 
seemingly  a  safe  hiding-place.  The  tribune  was  not  used, 
and  years  had  passed  since  the  door  had  been  opened.  It 
lay,  too,  upon  the  southern  side  of  the  mosque,  and  you  know 
that  the  worshippers  of  Mohammed  must  ever  turn  their 
faces  toward  Mecca,  that  is,  to  the  morning  sun ;  I  was  sure, 
therefore,  that  none  of  these  pious  unbelievers  would  ever 
look  toward  me.  From  my  concealment  I  could  with  entire 
comfort  observe  all  that  passed;  but  I  made  my  Turk  most 
unhappy  in  the  eagerness  of  my  curiosity.  I  sometimes 
stepped  from  behind  my  picture,  and  leaned  a  little  over  the 
railing.  My  poor  Mussulman  entreated  me  with  such  a 
piteous  mien,  and  pointed  to  the  soles  of  his  feet  with  such 
anguish,  that  I  was  forced  to  take  pity  on  him  and  withdraw 
into  my  concealment.  But  at  last,  in  spite  of  the  solem- 
nities, and  my  own  ardent  piety,  the  animal  was  roused  with- 
in and  overcame  me.  I  was  hungry!  and  as  I  had  expected 
this  result,  I  had  placed  a  good  bottle  of  wine  and  some  ham 
.•md  fresh  bread  in  my  pocket.     I  now  took  them  out,  spread 


396  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

my  treasures  upon  the  floor,  and  began  to  breakfast.  The 
Turk  looked  at  me  with  horror,  and  he  would  not  have 
been  surprised  if  the  roof  of  the  holy  mosque  had  fallen  upon 
the  Christian  hound  who  dared  to  desecrate  it  by  drinking 
wine  and  eating  ham  within  its  precincts,  both  of  which  were 
strictly  forbidden  by  the  prophet.  But  the  roof  did  not  fall, 
not  even  when  I  forced  my  Mussulman  to  eat  ham  and  drink 
wine  with  me,  by  threatening  to  show  myself  openly  if  he 
refused.  He  commenced  his  unholy  meal  with  dark  frowns 
and  threatening  glances,  ever  looking  up,  as  if  he  feared  the 
sword  of  the  prophet  would  cleave  him  asunder.  Soon, 
however,  he  familiarized  himself  with  his  sin,  and  forgot  the 
holy  ceremonies  which  were  being  solemnized.  When  the 
service  was  over,  and  all  others  had  left  the  mosque,  he  prayed 
me  to  wait  yet  a  little  longer,  and  as  the  best  of  friends, 
we  finished  the  rest  of  my  bacon  and  drank  the  last  drop  of 
my  wine  to  the  health  of  the  prophet,  laughing  merrily  over 
the  dangers  we  had  escaped.  As  at  last  we  were  about  to 
separate,  my  good  Turk  was  sad  and  thoughtful,  and  he  con- 
fessed to  me  that  he  had  the  most  glowing  desire  to  become  a 
Christian.  The  bacon  and  wine  had  refreshed  him  marvel- 
lously, and  he  was  enthusiastic  for  a  religion  which  offered 
such  glorious  food,  not  only  for  the  soul,  but  for  the  body. 
I  was  too  good  a  Christian  not  to  encourage  his  holy  desires. 
I  took  him  into  my  service,  and  when  we  had  left  Turkey, 
and  found  ourselves  on  Christian  soil,  my  Mussulman  grati- 
fied the  thirst  of  his  soul,  and  became  a  son  of  Holy  Mother 
Church,  and  felt  no  remorse  of  conscience  in  eating  ham  and 
drinking  wine.  So  my  visit  to  the  holy  mosque  was  rich  in 
blessed  consequences;  it  saved  a  soul,  and  my  wine  and  my 
ham  plucked  a  man  from  the  hell-fire  of  unbelief.  That  is, 
I  believe,  the  only  time  I  ever  succeeded  in  making  a  prose- 
lyte." 

"  The  salvation  of  that  soul  will  free  you  from  condemna- 
tion and  insure  your  own  eternal  happiness.  When  you 
come  to  die,  marquis,  you  dare  say,  *  I  have  not  lived  in  vain, 
I  have  won  a  soul  to  heaven.' " 

"Provided,"  said  Voltaire,  "that  the  bacon  with  which 
you  converted  the  Turk  was  not  part  of  one  of  the  beasts 
into  which  the  devils  were  cast,  as  is  written  in  the  Holy 


FREDERICK   THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    397 

Scriptures.  If  this  was  so,  then  the  newly-baked  Christian 
has  certainly  eaten  of  everlasting  damnation." 

''  Let  us  hope  that  this  is  not  so,"  said  Frederick ;  "  and 
now,  my  Lord  Marshal,  it  is  your  turn  to  give  us  a  piquant 
anecdote ;  or,  if  you  prefer  it,  an  heroic  deed  from  your  life, 
so  rich  in  virtue,  magnanimity,  truth,  and  constancy.  Ah, 
messieurs,  let  us  now  be  thoughtful,  cast  down  our  eyes,  and 
exalt  our  hearts.  A  virtuous  man  is  about  to  speak:  truly 
virtue  is  a  holy  goddess  loved  by  few,  to  whom  few  altars  are 
erected,  and  who  has  few  priests  in  her  service.  My  Lord 
Marshal  is  consecrated  to  her  altar;  you  may  well  believe 
this  when  I  assure  you  of  it — I,  who  have  been  so  often  de- 
ceived, and  often  tempted  to  believe  no  longer  in  the  exist- 
ence of  virtue.  My  noble  Keith  has  forced  me  to  be  credu- 
lous.    This  faith  comforts  me,  and  I  thank  him." 

With  a  glance  of  inexpressible  love  he  gave  his  hand  to 
his  friend,  who  pressed  it  to  his  breast.  The  faces  of  all 
present  were  grave,  almost  stern.  The  words  of  the  king 
were  a  reproach,  and  they  felt  wounded.  Frederick  thought 
not  of  them;  he  looked  alone  upon  the  noble,  handsome  face 
of  Lord  Marshal,  not  remembering  that  the  love  and  con- 
sideration manifested  for  him  might  excite  the  envy  and 
jealousy  of  his  other  friends. 

"  Now,  my  lord,  will  you  commence  your  nistory,  or  are 
we  too  impure  and  sinful  to  listen  to  any  of  the  holy  mys- 
teries of  your  pure  life  ?  " 

"  Ah,  sire,  there  are  no  mysteries  in  my  simple  life ;  it 
lies  like  an  open  book  before  the  eyes  of  my  king,  and,  in- 
deed, to  all  the  world." 

"  In  that  pure  book  I  am  sure  that  all  can  learn  wisdom 
and  experience,"  said  Frederick.  "  It  is  a  book  of  rarest 
value,  in  which  every  nobleman  can  learn  how  to  be  faithful 
to  his  king  in  dire  misfortune  and  to  the  gates  of  death. 
Ah,  my  lord,  there  are  few  men  like  yourself,  who  can  count 
it  as  imperishable  fame  to  have  been  condemned  to  the 
scaffold.  The  Pretender  must,  indeed,  be  a  most  noble 
prince,  as  you  were  willing  to  give  your  life  for  him." 

"  He  was  my  rightful  king  and  lord,  and  I  owed  him  al- 
legiance. That  I  was  condemned  for  him,  and  pardoned, 
and  banished  from  England,  I  cannot  now  consider  a  mis-- 


398  BERLIN  AJH)  SANS-SOUCl;  OR, 

fortune,  as  I  have  thereby  enjoyed  the  great  happiness  of 
being  near  your  majesty.  But  you  must  not  think  too  highly 
of  my  constancy  to  *  the  Pretender; '  it  was  not  pure  loyalty, 
and  if  I  carelessly  and  rashly  cast  my  life  upon  a  wild  chance, 
it  was  because  the  world  had  but  little  value  for  me.  In 
the  despair  and  anguish  of  my  heart  I  should  have  called 
Death  a  welcome  friend.  Had  I  been  happier  I  should  have 
been  less  brave." 

"  And  will  you  tell  us,  my  lord,  why  you  were  unhappy?  " 
"  Sire,  mine  is  a  simple  little  history,  such  as  is  daily 
acted  out  in  this  weary  world.  We  are  all,  however,  proud 
to  think  that  none  have  suffered  as  we  have  done.  There 
are  many  living  hearts  covered  as  with  a  gravestone,  under 
which  every  earthly  happiness  is  shrouded,  but  the  world 
is  ignorant  and  goes  laughing  by.  My  heart  has  bled  in 
secret,  and  my  happiness  is  a  remembrance;  my  life  once 
promised  to  be  bright  and  clear  as  the  golden  morning  sun. 
The  future  beckoned  to  me  with  a  thousand  glorious  prom- 
ises and  greeted  me  with  winning,  magic  smiles.  I  saw  a 
young,  lovely,  innocent,  modest  maiden,  like  a  spring  rose, 
with  heaven's  dew  still  hanging  untouched  upon  its  soft 
leaves.  I  saw  and  loved ;  it  seemed  to  me  God  had  sent  me  in 
her  His  most  wondrous  revelation.  I  loved,  I  worshipped  her. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  a  distinguished  French  noble.  I 
went  to  Paris,  a  young  and  modest  man,  highly  commended 
to  many  influential  and  powerful  families  of  the  court.  We 
met  daily ;  at  first  with  wonder  and  surprise ;  then,  with  deep 
emotion,  we  heard  each  other's  voices  without  daring  to  speak 
together ;  and  then,  at  last,  I  no  longer  dared  to  utter  a  word 
in  her  presence,  because  my  voice  trembled  and  I  could  not 
control  it.  One  day,  as  we  sat  silently  next  each  other  in  a 
large  assembly,  I  murmured  in  low,  broken  tones:  *If  I 
dared  to  love  you,  would  you  forgive  me  ? '  She  did  not  look 
up,  but  she  said,  *  I  should  be  happy.'  We  then  sank  again 
into  our  accustomed  silence,  only  looking  from  time  to  time 
into  each  other's  happy  eyes.  This  lasted  six  weeks,  six  weeks 
of  silent  but  inexpressible  happiness.  At  -last  I  overcame  my 
timidity  and  made  known  the  sweet  mystery  of  my  love. . 
I  demanded  the  hand  of  my  Victoire  from  her  father;  he 
gave  a  cheerful  consent,  and  led  me  to  my  beloved.   I  pressed 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    390 

her  to  my  heart,  drunk  with  excess  of  joy.  At  this  moment 
her  grandmother  entered  with  a  stem  face  and  scornful 
glance.  She  asked  if  I  was  a  Protestant.  This  fearful 
question  waked  me  from  my  dream  of  bliss.  In  the  rapture 
of  the  last  few  months  I  had  thought  of  nothing  but  my  love. 
Love  had  become  my  religion,  and  I  needed  no  other  influence 
to  lead  me  to  worship  God,  But  this,  alas,  was  not  suffi- 
cient! I  declared  myself  a  Protestant,  Victoire  uttered  a 
cry  of  anguish,  and  sank  insensible  into  her  father's  arms. 
Two  days  afterward  I  left  France.  Victoire  would  hot  see 
me,  and  refused  my  hand.  I  returned  to  England,  broken- 
hearted, desperate,  almost  insane.  In  this  delirium  of  grief 
I  joined  'the  Pretender,'  and  undertook  for  him  and  his 
cause  the  wildest  and  most  dangerous  adventures,  which 
ended,  at  last,  in  my  being  captured  and  condemned  to  the 
block.  This,  your  majesty,  was  the  only  love  of  my  life. 
You  see  I  had,  indeed,  but  little  to  relate." 

Frederick  said  nothing,  and  no  one  dared  to  break  the 
silence.  Even  Voltaire  repressed  the  malicious  jest  which 
played  upon  his  lip,  and  was  forced  to  content  himself  with 
a  mocking  smile.  • 

"  What  were  the  words  that  your  father  spoke  when  he 
sent  you  forth  as  a  man  into  the  world  ?  I  think  you  once  re- 
peated them  to  me,"  said  Frederick. 

"  Quaml  vos  yeux,  en  naiseant,  s'ouvraient  k  la  Ininiere, 
Chacun  vous  souriait,  mon  fils,  et  vous  pleuriez. 
Vivez  si  bien,  qu'un  jour,  a  votre  derniere  beure, 
Chacun  verse  des  pjeura,  et  qu'ojj  vojjs  voie  sourire." 

"You  have  fulfilled  your  father's  wish,"  said  the  king. 
"  You  have  so  lived,  that  you  can  smile  when  all  others  are 
weeping  for  you,  and  no  man  who  has  loved  can  forget  you. 
I  am  sure  your  Victoire  will  never  forget  you.  Have  you 
not  seen  her  since  that  first  parting  ? " 

"  Yes,  sire,  I  have  seen  her  once  again,  as  I  came  to 
Prussia,  after  being  banished  forever  from  England.  Ah, 
sire,  that  was  a  happy  meeting  after  twenty  years  of  separa- 
tion. The  pain  and  grief  of  love  were  over,  but  the  love 
remained.  We  confessed  this  to  each  other.  In  the  begin- 
ning there  was  suffering  and  sorrow,  then  a  sweet,  soft  re- 


400  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

membrance  of  our  love,  for  we  had  never  ceased  to  think 
upon  each  other.  It  seems  that  to  love  faithfully  and  eter- 
nally it  is  only  necessary  to  love  truly  and  honorably,  and 
then  to  separate.  Custom  and  daily  meeting  cannot  then 
brush  the  bloom  from  love's  light  wings;  its  source  is  in 
heaven,  and  it  returns  to  the  skies  and  shines  forever  and  in- 
extinguishable a  star  over  our  heads.  When  I  looked  again 
upon  Victoire  she  had  been  a  long  time  married,  and  to  the 
world  she  had,  perhaps,  ceased  to  be  beautiful.  To  me  she 
will  be  ever  lovely;  and  as  she  looked  upon  me  it  seejned  to 
me  that  the  clouds  and  shadows  had  been  lifted  from  my  life, 
and  my  sun  was  shining  clear.  But,  sire,  all  this  has  no  in- 
terest for  you.  How  tenderly  I  loved  Victoire  you  will 
know,  when  I  tell  you  that  the  only  poem  my  unpoetical 
brain  has  ever  produced  was  written  for  her." 

"  Let  us  hear  it,  my  lord,"  said  the  king. 

"  If  your  majesty  commands  it,  and  Voltaire  will  for- 
give it,"  said  Lord  Marshal. 

"  I  forgive  it,  my  lord,"  cried  Voltaire.  "  Since  I  lis- 
tened to  you  I  live  in  a  land  of  wonders  and  soft  enchant- 
ments, whose  existence  I  have  never  even  guessed,  and  upon 
whose  blooming,  perfumed  beauty  I  scarcely  dare  open  ray 
unholy  eyes.  The  fairy  tales  of  my  dreamy  youth  seem  now 
to  be  true,  and  I  hear  a  language  which  we,  poor  sons  of 
France,  living  under  the  regency  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans, 
have  no  knowledge  of.  I  entreat  you,  my  lord,  let  us  hear 
your  poem." 

Lord  Marshal  bowed,  and,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  in  a 
full  rich  voice,  he  recited  the  following  verses : 

" '  Un  trait  lance  par  caprice 

M'atteignit  dans  mon  printemps ; 

J 'en  porte  la  cicatrice 

Encore,  sous  mes  cheveux  Wanes. 

Craignez  les  maux  qu'amour  cause, 

£t  plaignez  un  insens^ 

Qui  n'a  point  cueilli  la  rose, 

Et  qui  I'dpine  a  bless^.'  * 

"  And  now,"  said  Lord  Marshal  rapidly,  wishing  to  inter- 
rupt &U  praise  and  all  remark  as  to  his  poem;  "I  have  yet 
*  M4moir«fl  d«  la  Marquise  de  Cr^ul 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    4-01 

a  confession  to  naake,  and  if  you  have  not  laughed  over  my 
verses,  you  will  surely  laugh  at  what  I  now  state.  Out  of 
love  for  my  lost  mistress,  I  became  a  Catholic.  I  thought 
that  the  faith,  to  which  my  Victoire  offered  up  her  love, 
must  be  the  true  religion  in  which  all  love  was  grounded.  I 
wished  to  be  hers  in  spirit,  in  life,  and  in  death.  In  spirit,  in 
truth,  I  am  a  Catholic ;  and  now,  gentlemen,  you  may  laugh." 

"  Sublime !  "  whispered  Voltaire. 

"  No  one  will  smile,"  said  the  king,  sternly.  "  Joy  and 
peace  to  him  who  is  a  believer,  and  can  lay  his  heart  upon 
the  cross,  and  feel  strengthened  and  supported  by  it.  He 
will  not  wander  in  strange  and  forbidden  paths,  as  we  poor, 
short-sighted  mortals  often  do.  Will  you  tell  us  the  name 
of  your  beloved  mistress,  or  is  that  a  secret  ?  " 

"  Sire,  our  love  was  pure  and  innocent ;  we  dare  avow  it 
to  the  whole  world.  My  beloved's  name  was  Victoire  de 
Froulay;  she  is  now  Marquise  de  Crequi." 

"  Ah,  the  Marquise  de  Crequi ! "  said  Voltaire,  with  ani- 
mation ;  "  one  of  the  wittiest  and  most  celebrated  women  of 
Paris." 

"  She  is  still  living  ? "  said  the  king,  thoughtfully. 
"  would  you  like  to  meet  her  again,  my  lord  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  majesty,  for  one  hour,  to  say  to  her  that  I  am 
a  Catholic,  and  that  we  shall  meet  in  heaven ! " 

"  I  will  send  you  as  ambassador  to  Paris,  my  lord,  and 
you  shall  bear  the  marquise  my  greetings."  * 

"  Your  majesty  will  thus  be  acting  an  epigram  for  George 
of  England,"  said  Voltaire,  laughing.  "  Two  of  his  noblest 
rebels  will  be  cementing  the  friendship  of  France  and  Prus- 
sia. Lord  Tyrconnel,  the  Irishman,  is  ambassador  from 
France  to  Prussia,  and  my  Lord  Marshal  Keith  is  to  be  am- 
bassador from  Prussia  to  France.  Ah,  my  lord !  how  will 
the  noble  marquise  rejoice  when  her  faithful  knight  shall 
introduce  to  her  his  most  beautiful  possession — the  young 
and  lovely  Mohammedan  Zuleima!  How  happy  will  Zulei- 
ma  be  when  you  point  out  to  her  the  woman  who  loved  you 
so  fondly!  She  will  then  know,  my  lord,  that  you  also  once 
had  a  heart,  and  have  been  beloved  by  a  woman." 

"  I  will  present  my  little  Zuleima  to  the  marquise,"  said 

*  Lord  Marshal  went  to  Paris,  as  an  auibassador  from  Prussia,  in  1761. 


402  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCl ;  OR, 

Lord  Marshal ;  "  and,  when  I  tell  her  that  she  was  a  bequest 
of  nay  dear  brother,  who,  at  the  storming  of  Oschakow,  where 
he  commanded  as  field-marshal,  rescued  her  from  the  flames, 
she  will  find  it  just  and  kind  that  I  gave  the  poor  orphan  a 
home  and  a  father.  I  wish  first,  however,  to  give  Zuleima  a 
husband,  if  your  majesty  will  allow  it.  The  Tartar  Ivan, 
my  chamberlain,  loves  Zuleima,  and  she  shall  be  his  wife  if 
your  majesty  consents." 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Frederick ;  "  but  I  fear  it  will  be 
difficult  to  have  this  marriage  solemnized  in  Berlin.  Your 
Tartar,  I  believe,  has  the  honor  to  be  heathen." 

"  Sire,  he  is,  in  faith,  a  Persian." 

"  A  fire -worshipper,  then,"  said  Frederick.  "  Well,  I  pro- 
pose that  Voltaire  shall  bless  this  marriage;  where  fire  ia 
worshipped  as  a  god,  Voltaire,  the  man  of  fire  and  flame,  may 
well  be  priest." 

"  Ah,  sire,  I  believe  we  are  all  Persians ;  surely  we  all 
worship  the  light,  and  turn  aside  from  darkness.  You  are 
to  us  the  god  Ormuzd,  from  whom  all  light  proceeds;  and 
every  priest  is  for  us  as  Ahriman,  the  god  of  darkness.  Be 
gracious  to  me,  then,  your  majesty,  and  do  not  call  upon  me 
to  play  the  role  of  priest  even  in  jest.  But  why  does  this 
happy  son  of  the  heathen  require  a  priest?  Is  not  the  sun- 
god  Ormuzd  himself  present?  With  your  majesty's  permis- 
sion, we  will  place  the  loving  pair  upon  the  upper  terrace  of 
Sans-Souci,  where  they  will  be  baptized  in  holy  fire  by  the 
clear  rays  of  the  mid-day  sun.  Then  the  divine  Marianna, 
Cochois,  and  Denys  will  perform  some  mystical  dance,  and  so 
the  marriage  will  be  solemnized  according  to  Persian  rites 
and  ceremonies." 

"  And  then,  I  dare  hope  your  majesty  will  give  a  splendid 
wedding-feast,  where  costly  wines  and  rich  and  rare  viands 
will  not  fail  us,"  said  La  Mettrie. 

"Look,  now,  how  his  eyes  sparkle  with  anticipated  de- 
lights !  "  cried  the  king.  "  La  Mettrie  would  consent  to  wed 
every  woman  in  the  world  if  he  could  thereby  spend  his 
whole  life  in  one  continuous  wedding-feast;  but  listen,  sir, 
before  you  eat  again,  you  have  a  story  to  relate.  Discharge 
this  duty  at  once,  and  give  us  a  piquant  anecdote  from  your 
gay  life." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    40a 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  COJfPlDENTIAL  DINNER. 

"Your  majesty  desires  a  piquant  anecdote  out  of  my 
own  life,"  said  La  Mettrie.  "  Is  there  any  thing  on  earth 
more  piquant  than  a  truffle-pie?  Can  any  thing  deserve 
more  ardent  praise,  and  fonder,  sweeter  remembrance,  than 
this  beautiful  revelation  of  man's  genius?  Yes,  sire,  a  suc- 
cessful truffle-pie  is  a  sort  of  revealed  religion,  and  I  am  its 
devout,  consecrated  priest !  One  day  I  relinquished,  for  the 
love  of  it,  a  considerable  fortune,  a  handsome  house,  and  a 
very  pretty  bride,  and  I  confess  that  even  now  a  truffle-pie 
has  more  irresistible  charms  for  me  than  any  bride,  even 
though  richly  endowed." 

"  And  was  there  ever  a  father  mad  enough  to  give  his 
daughter  to  the  ^  homme  machine?  ^ '^  said  the  king 

"  Sire,  I  had  just  then  written  my  *  Penelope.'  Mon- 
sieur van  Swiet,  of  Leyden,  a  poor  invalid,  who  had  been  for 
weeks  confined  to  his  bed  by  a  cold,  read  it,  and  laughed  so 
heartily  over  the  mockery  and  derision  at  the  gentlemen 
doctors,  that  he  fell  into  a  profuse  perspiration — a  result 
which  neither  the  art  of  the  physicians  nor  the  prayers  of 
the  priests  had  been  able  to  accomplish.  The  stiffness  in  his 
limbs  was  healed;  in  fact,  he  was  restored  to  health!  His 
first  excursion  was  to  see  me,  and  he  implored  me  to  sug- 
gest a  mode  by  which  he  could  manifest  his  gratitude. 
*  Send  me  every  day  a  truffle-pie  and  a  bottle  of  Hungarian 
wine,'  I  replied.  Swiet  was  greatly  amused.  *  I  have  some- 
thing better  than  a  truffle-pie,'  said  he.  *  I  have  a  daughter 
who  will  inherit  all  my  fortune.  You  are  not  rich  in  ducats, 
but  largely  endowed  with  wit.  I  wish  that  my  grand- 
children, who  will  be  immensely  wealthy,  may  have  a  father 
who  will  endow  them  richly  with  intellect.  Wed  my 
daughter,  and  present  me  with  a  grandson  exactly  like  your- 
self.' I  accepted  this  proposition,  and  promised  the  good 
Van  Swiet  to  become  his  son-in-law  in  eight  days;  to  dwell 
with  him  in  his  house,  and  to  cheer  and  enliven  him  daily 
for  a  few  hours  after  dinner,  with  merry,  witty  conversation, 
26 


404  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

that  his  liver  might  be  kept  in  motion,  and  his  digestion  im- 
proved." 

"  Just  think  of  this  tender  Hollander,  this  disinterested 
father,  who  selects  a  husband  for  his  daughter  in  order  to  im- 
prove his  digestion !  " 
,,  "  Did  you  not  see  your  bride  before  the  wedding  ?  Per- 
haps she  was  a  changeling,  whom  the  father  wished  to  get  rid 
of  in  some  respectable  manner,  and  therefore  gave  her  to 
you." 

"  I  saw  my  bride,  sire,  and  indeed  Esther  was  a  lovely 
girl,  who  had  but  one  fault — she  did  not  love  me.  She  had 
the  naivete  to  tell  me  so,  and  indeed  to  confess  that  she  ar- 
dently loved  another,  a  poor  clerk  of  her  father's,  who,  when 
their  love  was  discovered,  a  short  time  before,  had  been  turned 
out  of  the  house.  They  loved  each  other  none  the  less  glow- 
ingly for  all  this.  I  shrugged  my  shoulders,  and  recalled  the 
wish  of  her  father,  and  my  promise  to  him.  But  when  the 
little  Esther  implored  me  to  refuse  her  hand,  and  plead  with 
her  father  for  her  beloved,  I  laughed  and  jested  no  longer,  but 
began  to  look  at  the  thing  gravely.  I  did  go  to  her  father, 
and  informed  him  of  all  that  had  passed.  He  listened  to 
me  quietly,  and  then  asked  me,  with  a  fearful  grimace,  if  I 
preferred  prison  fare  to  truffle-pie,  every  day,  at  my  own 
table.     You  can  imagine  that  I  did  not  hesitate  in  my  choice. 

"  *  Well,  then,'  said  my  good  Swiet,  *  if  you  do  not  wed 
my  daughter,  I  will  withdraw  my  protecting  hand  from  you, 
and  your  enemies  will  find  a  means  to  cast  you  into  prison. 
A  new  book,  "  L' Homme  Machine,"  has  just  appeared,  and 
every  man  swears  it  is  your  production,  though  your  name  is 
not  affixed  to  the  title-page.  The  whole  city,  not  only  the 
priests,  but  the  worldlings,  are  enraged  over  this  book.  They 
declare  it  is  a  monster  of  unbelief  and  materialism.  If,  in 
spite  of  all  this,  I  accept  you  as  my  son-in-law,  it  is  be- 
cause I  wish  to  show  the  world  that  I  despise  it,  and  am 
not  in  the  slightest  degree  influenced  by  its  prejudices  and 
opinions,  but  am  a  bold,,  independent,  freethinker.  Decide, 
then!  Will  you  marry  my  daughter  and  eat  truffle-pie 
daily,  or  will  you  be  cast  into  prison  ? ' 

"  *  I  will  marry  your  daughter !  I  swear  that  in  eight  days 
she  shall  be  my  wife  1 ' 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AXD  HIS  FRIENDS,    405 

"  Herr  van  Swiet  embraced  me  warmly,  and  commenced 
his  preparations  for  the  wedding  immediately.  Esther, 
however,  my  bride,  never  spoke  to  me;  never  seemed  to  see 
me.  Her  eyes  were  swollen,  and  she  was  half-blind  from 
weeping.  Once  we  met  alone  in  the  saloon.  She  hastened 
to  leave  it;  but,  as  she  passed  by  me,  she  raised  her  arms  to 
heaven,  then  extended  them  threateningly  toward  me.  '  You 
are  a  cruel  and  bad  man.  You  will  sacrifice  a  human  soul 
to  your  greed  and  your  irresistible  and  inordinate  desires! 
If  God  is  just,  you  will  die  of  a  truffle-pie !  I  say  not  that 
you  will  yield  up  your  spirit,  for  you  have  none !  You  will, 
you  must  die  like  a  beast — from  beastly  gluttony ! '  " 

"  The  maiden  possessed  the  wisdom  of  a  sibyl,"  said  the 
king,  "  and  I  fear  she  has  prophesied  correctly  as  to  your  sad 
future.  Hate  has  sometimes  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  sees 
the  future  clearly,  while  Love  is  blind.  It  appears  to  me 
your  Esther  did  not  suffer  from  the  passion  of  love." 

"  No,  sire,  she  hated  me.  But  her  lover,  the  yoimg  Mier- 
itz,  did  not  share  this  dislike.  He  seemed  warmly  attached 
to  me;  was  my  inseparable  companion;  embraced  me  with 
tears,  and  forgave  me  for  robbing  him  of  his  beloved,  declar- 
ing that  I  was  more  worthy  of  her  than  himself.  He  went 
so  far  in  his  manifestations  of  friendship  as  to  invite  me  to 
breakfast  on  the  morning  of  my  wedding-day,  at  which  time 
he  wished  to  present  me  with  something  sumptuous  he  had 
brought  from  Amsterdam.  I  accepted  the  invitation,  and  as 
the  wedding-ceremony  was  to  take  place  at  twelve  o'clock,  in 
the  cathedral,  we  were  compelled  to  breakfast  at  eleven.  I 
was  content.  I  thought  I  could  better  support  the  weari- 
some ceremony  if  sustained  by  the  fond  remembrance  of  the 
luxurious  meal  I  had  just  enjoyed.  Our  breakfast  began 
punctually  at  eleven,  and  I  assure  your  majesty  it  was  a 
rare  and  costly  feast.  My  young  friend  Mieritz  declared, 
however,  that  the  dish  which  crowned  the  feast  was  yet 
to  come.  At  last  he  stepped  to  the  kitchen  himself  to  bring 
this  jewel  of  his  breakfast.  With  a  mysterious  smile  he 
quickly  returned,  bringing  upon  a  silver  dish  a  smoking  pie. 
A  delicious  fragrance  immediately  pervaded  the  whole  room 
— a  fragrance  which  then  recalled  the  hour  most  rich  in  bless- 
ing pi  my  whole  life.   Beside  m^eell— filled  with  prophetic 


406  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCl;  OR, 

expectation — I  rushed  forward  and  raised  the  top  crust  of 
the  pie.  Yes,  it  was  there! — it  met  my  ravished  gaze! — the 
pie  which  I  had  only  eaten  once,  at  the  table  of  the  Duke 
de  Grammont!  Alas!  I  lost  the  good  duke  at  the  battle 
of  Fontenoy,  and  the  great  mystery  of  this  pasty  went  down 
with  him  into  the  hero's  grave.  And  now  that  it  was  ex- 
humed, it  surrounded  me  with  its  costly  aroma;  it  smiled 
upon  me  with  glistening  lips  and  voluptuous  eyes.  I 
snatched  the  dish  from  the  hands  of  my  friend,  and  placed  it 
before  me  on  the  table.  At  this  moment  the  clock  struck 
twelve. 

"  *  Miserable  wretch ! '  I  cried,  *  you  bring  me  this  pie, 
and  this  is  the  hour  of  my  marriage !  * 

" '  Well,'  said  Mieritz,  with  the  cool  phlegm  of  a  Hol- 
lander, *let  us  go  first  to  the  wedding,  and  then  this  pasty 
can  be  warmed  up.' 

"  *  Warmed  up !  *  roared  I ;  *  warm  up  this  pie,  whose 
delicious  odor  has  already  brought  my  nose  into  its  magic 
circle !  Can  you  believe  I  would  outlive  such  a  vandalism, 
that  I  would  consent  to  such  sacrilege  ?  To  warm  a  pie ! — it 
is  to  rob  the  blossom  of  its  fragrance,  the  butterfly  of  the 
purple  and  azure  of  its  wings,  beauty  of  its  innocence,  the 
golden  day  of  its  glory.  No,  I  will  never  be  guilty  of  such 
deadly  crime!  This  pie  thirsts  to  be  eaten!  I  will,  there- 
fore, eat  it ! ' 

"I  ate  it,  sire,  and  it  overpowered  me  with  heavenly 
rapture.  I  was  like  the  opium-eater,  wrapped  in  elysium, 
carried  into  the  heaven  of  heavens.  All  the  wonders  of 
creation  were  combined  in  this  heavenly  food,  which  I  thrust 
into  my  mouth  devoutly,  and  trembling  with  gladness.  It 
was  not  necessary  for  Mieritz  to  tell  me  that  this  pie  was 
made  of  Indian  birds'-nests,  and  truffles  from  Perigord. 
I  knew  it — I  felt  it !  This  wonder  of  India  had  unveiled  my 
enraptured  eyes!  A  new  world  was  opened  before  me!  I 
ate,  and  I  was  blessed ! 

"What  was  it  to  me  that  messenger  after  messenger 
came  to  summon  me,  to  inform  me  that  the  priest  stood  be- 
fore the  altar;  that  my  young  bride  and  her  father  and  a 
crowd  of  relations  awaited  me  with  impatience?  I  cried 
back  to  them :  *  Go !  be  off  with  you  t    Let  them  wait  till 


PREDEEICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    iO^ 

the  judgment-day!  I  will  not  rise  from  this  seat  till  thia 
dish  is  empty ! '  I  ate  on,  and  while  eating  my  intellect  was 
clearer,  sharper,  more  profound  than  ever  before!  I  re- 
joiced over  this  conviction.  Was  it  not  a  conclusive  proof 
that  my  theory  was  correct,  that  this  '  homme  machine '  re- 
ceived its  intellectual  fluid,  its  power  of  thought  through  it- 
self, and  not  through  this  fabulous,  bodiless  something  which 
metaphysicians  call  soul  ?  Was  not  this  a  proof  that,  to  pos- 
sess a  noble  soul,  it  was  only  necessary  to  give  to  the  body 
noble  nourishment?  And  where  lies  this  boasted  soul? 
where  else  but  in  the  stomach?  The  stomach  is  the  soul;  I 
allow  it  is  the  brain  that  thinks,  but  the  brain  dares  only 
think  as  his  exalted  majesty  the  stomach  allows ;  and  if  his 
royal  highness  feels  unwell,  farewell  to  thought."  * 

The  whole  company  burst  out  in  loud  and  hearty  laughter. 

"  Am  I  not  right  to  call  you  a  fou  fieffe?  "  said  the  king. 
"  There  is  an  old  proverb,  which  says  of  a  coward,  that  his 
heart  lies  in  his  stomach;  never  before  have  I  heard  the 
soul  banished  there.  But  your  hymns  of  praise  over  the 
stomach  and  the  pie  have  made  you  forget  to  finish  your 
story;  let  us  hear  the  conclusion!  Did  the  marriage  take 
place  ?  " 

"  Sire,  I  had  not  quite  finished  my  breakfast  when  the 
door  was  violently  opened,  and  a  servant  rushed  in  and  an- 
nounced that  the  good  Van  Swiet  had  had  a  stroke  of  apo- 
plexy in  the  cathedral.  The  foolish  man  declared  that  rage 
and  indignation  over  my  conduct  had  produced  this  fearful 
result ;  I  am,  myself,  however,  convinced  that  it  was  the  con- 
sequence of  a  good  rich  breakfast  and  a  bottle  of  Madeira 
wine;  this  disturbed  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  and  he 
was  chilled  by  standing  upon  the  cold  stone  floor  of  the 
church.  Be  that  as  it  may,  poor  Swiet  was  carried  uncon- 
scious from  the  church  to  his  dwelling,  and  in  a  few  hours 
he  was  dead!  Esther,  his  daughter  and  heir,  was  unfilial 
enough  to  leave  the  wish  of  her  father  unfulfilled.  She 
would  not  acknowledge  our  contract  to  be  binding,  declared 
herself  the  bride  of  the  little  Mieritz,  and  married  him  in  a 
few  months.  I  had,  indeed,  a  legal  claim  upon  her,  but 
Swiet  was  right  when  he  assured  me  that  so  soon  as  he  with* 
*  I.a  Mettrie'a  own  worda. 


408  BERLIN  AKD  SANS-SOUCI  ;  OR, 

drew  his  protection  from  me,  the  whole  pack  of  fanatical 
priests  and  weak-minded  scholars  would  fall  upon  and  tear 
me  to  pieces,  unless  I  saved  myself  by  flight.  So  I  obeyed 
your  majesty's  summons,  took  my  pilgrim-staff,  and  wan- 
dered on,  like  Ahasuerus." 

"  What !  without  taking  vengeance  on  the  crafty  Mieritz, 
who,  it  is  evident,  had  carried  out  successfuly  a  well-oon- 
sidered  strategy  with  his  pie  ?  "  said  the  king.  "  You  must 
know  that  was  all  arranged:  he  caught  you  with  his  pie,  as 
men  catch  mice  with  cheese." 

"  Even  if  I  knew  that  to  be  so,  your  majesty,  I  should  not 
quarrel  with  him  on  that  account.  I  should  have  only  said 
to  my  pie,  as  Holof  ernes  said  to  Judith :  '  Thy  sin  was  a 
great  enjoyment,  I  forgive  you  for  slaying  me ! '  For  such  a 
pie  I  would  again  sacrifice  another  bride  and  another  for- 
tune ! " 

"  And  is  there  no  possible  means  to  obtain  it  ? "  said  the 
king.  "  Can  you  not  obtain  the  receipt  for  this  wonderful 
dish,  which  possesses  the  magic  power  to  liberate  young 
women  from  intolerable  men,  and  change  a  miser  into  a 
spendthrift  who  thrusts  his  whole  fortune  down  his  throat  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  prospect,  sire,  of  securing  it,  but  you  cannot 
be  the  first  to  profit  by  it, ,  Lord  Tyrconnel,  who  knows  my 
history,  opened  a  diplomatic  correspondence  with  Holland, 
some  weeks  ago,  on  this  subject,  and  the  success  of  an  im- 
portant loan  which  France  wishes  to  effect  with  the  house  of 
Mieritz  and  Swiet,  through  the  mediation  of  Lord  Tyrconnel, 
hangs  upon  the  obtaining  of  this  receipt.  If  Mieritz  refuses 
it,  France  will  not  make  the  loan.  In  that  case  the  war, 
which  now  seems  probable  with  England,  will  not  take 
place." 

"  And  yet  it  is  said  that  great  events  can  only  arise  from 
great  causes,"  cried  the  king.  "  The  peace  of  the  world 
now  hangs  upon  the  receipt  of  a  truffle-pie,  which  La  Met- 
trie  wishes  to  obtain," 

"  What  is  the  peace  of  the  world  in  comparison  with  the 
peace  of  our  souls  ?  "  cried  Voltaire.  "  La  Mettrie  may  say 
what  he  will,  and  the  worthy  Abbe  Bastiani  may  be  wholly 
silent,  but  I  believe  I  have  a  soul,  which  does  not  lie  in 
my  stomach,  and  this  soul  of  mine  will  never  be  satisfied 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    409 

till  your  majesty  keeps  your  promise,  and  relates  one  of 
those  intellectual,  piquant  histories,  glowing  with  wisdom 
and  poesy,  which  so  often  flows  from  the  lips  of  our  Solo- 
mon!" 

"  It  is  true  it  is  now  my  turn  to  speak,"  said  Frederick, 
smiling.  "  I  will  be  brief.  Not  only  the  lights,  but  also  the 
eyes  of  Algarotti,  are  burning  dimly ;  and  look  how  the  good 
marquis  is,  in  thought,  making  love-winks  toward  his  night- 
cap, which  lies  waiting  for  him  upon  his  bed"!  But  be  com- 
forted, gentlemen,  my  story  is  short.  Like  La  Mettrie,  I 
will  relate  a  miracle,  in  which,  however  the  eyes  were 
profited,  the  stomach  had  no  interest.  This  miracle  took 
place  in  Breslau,  in  the  year  1747. 

"  Cardinal  Zinzendorf  was  just  dead,  and  the  Duke 
Schafgotch,  who  some  years  before  I  had  appointed  his  coad- 
jutor, was  to  be  his  successor.  But  the  Silesians  were  not 
content.  They  declared  that  Duke  Schafgotch  was  too  fond 
of  the  joys  and  pleasures  of  the  world  to  be  a  good  priest; 
that  he  thought  too  much  of  the  beautiful  women  of  this 
world  to  be  able  to  offer  to  the  holy  Madonna,  the  mother 
of  God,  the  sanctified,  ardent,  but  pure  and  modest  love  of  a 
true  son  of  the  church.  The  pious  Silesians  refused  to  be- 
lieve that  the  duke  was  sufiiciently  holy  to  be  their  bishop. 
The  sage  fathers  of  the  city  of  Breslau  assured  me  that 
nothing  less  than  a  miracle  could  secure  for  him  the  love 
and  consideration  of  the  Silesians.  I  had  myself  gone  to 
Silesia  to  see  if  the  statement  of  the  authorities  was  well- 
foimded,  and  if  the  people  were  really  so  discontented  with 
the  new  bishop.  I  found  their  statement  fidly  confirmed. 
Only  a  great  miracle  could  incline  the  pious  hearts  of  the 
Silesians  to  the  duke. 

"  And  now  remark,  messieurs,  how  Providence  is  always 
with  the  pious  and  the  just — this  desired  miracle  took  place  I 
On  a  lovely  morning  a  rumor  was  spread  abroad,  in  the  city 
of  Breslau,  that  in  the  chapel  of  the  Holy  Mother  of  God 
a  miracle  might  be  seen.  All  Breslau — the  loveliest  ladies 
of  the  haute  volee,  and  the  poorest  beggars  of  the  street — 
rushed  to  the  church  to  look  upon  this  miracle.  Yes,  it  was 
undeniable!  The  hair  of  the  Madonna,  which  stood  in 
enticing  but  wooden  beauty  upon  the  altar,  whose  clothing 


410  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

was  furnished  by  the  first  modistes,  and  whose  hair  by  the 
first  perruquier — this  hair,  wonderful  to  relate,  had  grown! 
It  was  natural  that  she  should  exercise  supernatural  power. 
The  blind,  the  lame,  the  crippled  were  cured  by  her  touch. 
I  myself — for  you  may  well  think  that  I  hastened  to  see  the 
miracle — saw  a  lame  man  throw  away  his  crutch  and  dance 
a  minuet  in  honor  of  the  Madonna.  There  was  a  blind  man 
who  approached  with  a  broad  band  bound  over  his  eyes.  He 
was  led  forward  to  this  wonderful  hair.  Scarcely  had  the 
lovely  locks  touched  his  face,  than  he  tore  the  band  from  his 
eyes,  and  shouted  with  ecstasy — ^his  sight  was  restored! 
Thousands,  who  were  upon  their  knees  praying  in  wrapt  de- 
votion, shouted  in  concert  with  him,  and  here  and  there  iii- 
spired  voices  called  out :  '  The  holy  Madonna  is  content  with 
her  new  servant  the  bishop !  if  she  were  not,  she  would  not 
perform  these  miracles.'  These  voices  fell  like  a  match  in 
this  magazine  of  excitement.  Men  wept  and  embraced  each 
other,  and  thanked  God  for  the  new  bishop,  whom  yes- 
terday they  had  refused. 

"  In  the  meantime,  however,  there  were  sftill  some  sus- 
picious, distrustful  souls  who  would  not  admit  that  the 
growth  of  the  Madonna's  hair  was  a  testimony  in  favor  of 
the  bishop.  But  these  stiff-necked  unbelievers,  these  heart- 
less skeptics,  were  at  last  convinced.  Two  days  later  this 
lovely  hair  had  grown  perceptibly;  and  Still  two  days  later, 
it  hung  in  luxurious  length  and  fulness  over  h6r  shoulders. 
'No  one  could  longer  doubt  that  the  Holy  Virgin  was  pleased 
with  her  priest.  It  had  often  happened  that  haii'  had  turned 
gray,  or  been  torn  out  by  the  roots  in  rage  and  scorn.  No 
one,  however,  can  maintain  that  the  hair  grows  unless  we 
are  in  a  happy  and  contented  mood.  The  Madoilna,  there- 
fore, was  pleased.  The  wondrous  growth  of  h6f  hair  en- 
raptured the  faithful,  and  all  mankind  declared  that  fhis 
holy  image  cut  from  a  pear-tree,  was  the  Virgin  Mary,  who 
with  open  eyes  watched  over  Breslau,  and  whose  hair  grew 
in  hoiior  of  the  new  Bishop  Schafgotch — he  was  now  almost 
adored.  Thousands  of  the  believers  surrounded  his  palace 
and  besought  his  blessing.  It  was  a  beautiful  picture  of  a 
shepherd  and  his  flock.  The  Madonna"'  no  longer  found  it 
necessary  to  make  her  hair  grow;  one  miracle  had  sufficed. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    411 

and  with  the  full  growth  of  her  hair  the  archbishop  had  also 
grown  into  importance." 

"  But  your  majesty  has  not  yet  named  the  holy  saint  at 
whose  intercession  this  miracle  was  performed,"  said  the 
Marquis  D'Argens.  "  Graciously  disclose  the  name,  that 
we  may  pray  for  pardon  and  blessing." 

"  This  holy  saint  was  my  friseur"  said  the  king,  laugh- 
ing. "I  made  him  swear  that  he  would  never  betray  my 
secret.  Every  third  day,  in  the  twilight,  he  stole  secretly  to 
the  church,  and  placed  a  new  wig  upon  the  Madonna,  and 
withdrew  the  old  one.*  You  see,  messieurs,  that  not  only 
happiness  but  pietj"-  may  hang  on  a  hair,  and  those  holy 
saints  to  whom  the  faithful  pray  were,  without  doubt,  adroit 
perruquiers  who  understand  their  cue." 

"  And  who  use  it  as  a  scourge  upon  the  backs  of  the  pious 
penitents,"  said  Voltaire.  "  Ah,  sire !  your  story  is  as  wise 
as  it  is  piquant — it  is  another  proof  that  you  are  a  warrior. 
You  have  won  a  spiritual  battle  with  your  miraculous  wig, 
a  battle  against  Holy  Mother  Church," 

"By  which,  happily,  no  soldiers  and  only  a  few  wigs 
were  left  behind.  But  see  how  grave  and  mute  our  very 
worthy  abbe  appears — I  believe  he  is  envious  of  the  miracle 
I  performed!  And  now  it  is  your  turn,  Bastiani:  give  us 
your  story — a  history  of  some  of  the  lovely  Magdaleus  you 
have  encountered." 

"Ah,  sire!  will  not  your  majesty  excuse  me?"  said  the 
abbe,  bowing  low.  "  My  life  has  been  the  still,  quiet,  lonely, 
unostentatious  life  of  a  priest,  and  only  the  ever-blessed 
King  Frederick  William  introduced  storm  and  tempest  into 
its  even  course.  That  was,  without  doubt,  God's  will ;  other- 
wise this  robust  and  giant  form  which  He  gave  me  would 
have  been  in  vain.  My  height  and  strength  so  enraptured 
the  emissaries  of  the  king,  that  in  the  middle  of  the  service 
before  the  altar,  as  I  was  reading  mass,  they  tore  me  away 
without  regarding  the  prayers  and  outcries  of  my  flock.  I 
was  violently  borne  off,  and  immediately  enrolled  as  a 
soldier."  t 

"A  wonderful  ideal"  cried  Voltaire,  "to  carry  off  a 

*  Authentic  addition  to  the  "  History  of  Frederick  the  Second." 
;t  Thidbault 


tl2  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

priest  in  his  vestments  and  make  a  soldier  of  him;  but  say, 
now,  abbe,  could  you  not,  at  least,  have  taken  your  house- 
keeper with  you?    I  dare  say  she  was  young  and  pretty." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Bastiani ;  "  I  am,  as  you  know, 
very  short-sighted,  and  I  never  looked  upon  her  face ;  but  it 
was  a  great  misfortune  for  a  priest  to  be  torn  from  the 
Tyrolese  mountains  and  changed  into  a  soldier.  But  now, 
I  look  upon  this  as  my  greatest  good  fortune ;  by  this  means 
were  the  eyes  of  my  exalted  king  fixed  upon  me;  he  was 
gracious,  and  honored  me  with  his  condescending  friend- 
ship." 

"  You  forget  there  is  no  king  here,  and  that  here  no  man 
must  be  flattered,"  said  Frederick,  frowning. 

"  Sire,  I  know  there  is  no  king  present,  and  that  proves 
I  am  no  flatterer.  I  speak  of  my  love  and  admiration 
to  my  king,  but  not  to  his  face.  I  praise  and  exalt  him  be- 
hind his  back;  that  shows  that  I  love  him  dearly,  not  for 
honor  or  favor,  but  out  of  a  pure  heart  fervently." 

"  What  happiness  for  your  pure  and  unselfish  heart,  that 
your  place  of  canonary  of  Breslau  brings  in  three  thousand 
thalers!  otherwise  your  love,  which  does  not  understand 
flattery,  might  leave  you  in  the  lurch ;  you  might  be  hungry." 

"  He  that  eats  of  the  bread  of  the  Lord  shall  never 
hunger,"  said  Bastiani,  in  a  low  and  solemn  voice ;  "  he  that 
will  serve  two  masters  will  be  faithful  to  neither,  and  may 
fear  to  be  hungry." 

"  Oh,  oh !  look  at  our  pious  abbe,  who  throws  off  his 
sheep's  skin  and  turns  the  rough  side  out,"  cried  Voltaire. 
"  It  is  written,  *  The  sheep  shall  be  turned  into  wolves,'  and 
you,  dear  abbe,  in  your  piety  fulfil  this  prophecy." 

"  Your  witty  illusions  are  meant  for  me  because  I  am  the 
historian  of  the  King  of  France,  and  gentleman  of  the  bed- 
chamber to  the  King  of  Prussia.  Compose  yourself.  As 
historian  to  the  King  of  France,  I  have  no  pension,  and  his 
majesty  of  Prussia  will  tell  you  that  I  am  the  most  useless 
of  servants  that  the  sun  of  royal  favor  ever  shone  upon. 
Yes,  truly,  I  am  a  poor,  modest,  trifling,  good-for-nothing 
creature ;  and  if  his  majesty  did  not  allow  me,  from  time  to 
time,  to  read  his  verses  and  rejoice  in  their  beauty,  and  here 
and  there  to  add  a  comma,  I  should  be  as  useless  a  being  as 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    413 

that  'Catholic  priest  stationed  at  Dresden,  at  the  court  of 
King*  Augustus,  who  has  nothing  to  do — no  man  or  woman  to 
confess — there,  as  here,  every  man  being  a  Lutheran.  Al- 
garotti  told  me  he  asked  him  once  how  he  occupied  himself. 
The  worthy  abbe  answered:  ' /o  sono  il  cattolica  di  sua 
maestdJ  So  I  will  call  myself,  '  II  pedagogue  di  sua 
maestd.'  *    Like  yourself,  I  serve  but  one  master." 

"Alas!  I  fear  my  cattolica  will  not  linger  long  by  me," 
said  the  king.  "  A  man  of  his  talent  and  worth  cannot  con- 
tent himself  with  being  canon  of  Breslau.  No,  Bastiani, 
you  will,  without  doubt,  rise  higher.  You  will  become  a 
prelate,  an  eminence;  yes,  you  will,  perhaps,  wear  the  tiara. 
But  what  shall  I  be  when  you  have  mounted  this  glittering 
pinnacle — when  you  have  become  pope?  I  wager  you  will 
deny  me  your  apostolic  blessing;  that  you  will  not  even 
allow  me  to  kneel  and  kiss  your  slipper.  If  any  man  should 
dare  to  name  me  to  you,  you  would  no  longer  remember  this 
unselfish  love,  which,  without  doubt,  you  feel  passionately 
for  me  at  this  moment.  Ah !  I  see  you  now  rising  from  St. 
Peter's  chair  with  apostolic  sublimity,  and  exclaiming  with 
praiseworthy  indignation :  '  How !  this  heretic,  this  unclean, 
this  savage  from  hell !  I  curse  him,  I  condemn  him.  Let  no 
man  dare  even  to  name  him.' " 

"  Grace,  grace,  sire !  "  cried  the  abbe,  holding  his  hands 
humbly,  and  looking  up  at  the  king. 

The  other  gentlemen  laughed  heartily.  The  king  was 
inexorable.  The  specious  holiness  and  hypocrisy  which  the 
abbe  had  brought  upon  the  stage  incensed  him,  and  he  was 
resolved  to  punish  it. 

"  Now,  if  you  were  pope,  and  I  am  convinced  you  will 
be,  I  should,  without  doubt,  go  to  Kome.  It  is  very  im- 
portant for  me  to  ascertain,  while  I  have  you  here,  what  sort 
of  a  reception  you  would  accord  me?  So,  let  us  hear.  When 
I  appear  before  your  holiness,  what  will  you  say  to  me  ?  " 

The  abbe,  who  had  been  sitting  with  downcast  eyes, 
and  murmuring  from  time  to  time  in  pleading  tones:  "Ah, 
sire !  ah,  sire !  "  now  looked  up,  and  a  flashing  glance  fell 
upon  the  handsome  face  of  the  king,  now  glowing  with 
mirth. 

*  "  CEuvrea  Completes  de  Voltaire,"  p.  376. 


414  BERLIN  AND  8ANS-S0UCI;  OR, 

"Well?"  repeated  the  king,  "what  would  you  Say 
tome?" 

"  Sire,"  said  Bastiani,  bowing  reverently,  "  I  would  say, 
'  Almighty  eagle,  cover  me  with  your  wings,  and  protect  me 
from  your  own  beak.'  "  * 

"  That  is  an  answer  worthy  of  your  intellect,"  said  the 
king,  smiling,  "  and  in  consideration  of  it  I  will  excuse  you 
from  relating  some  little  history  of  your  life, — Xow,  Duke 
Algarotti,  your  time  has  come.  You  are  the  last,  and  no 
doubt  you  will  conclude  the  evening  worthily." 

"  Sire,  my  case  is  similar  to  Bastiani's.  There  has  been 
no  mystery  in  my  life;  only  that  which  seemed  miraculous 
for  a  priest  was  entirely  natural  and  simple  in  my  ease.  I 
have  travelled  a  great  deal,  have  seen  the  world,  knovra  men ; 
and  all  my  experience  and  the  feelings  and  convictions  of  my 
heart  have  at  last  laid  me  at  the  feet  of  your  majesty.  I 
am  like  the  faithful,  who,  having  been  healed  by  a  miracle, 
hang  a  copy  of  the  deceased  member  upon  the  miraculous 
image  which  cured  them.  My  heart  was  sick  of  the  world 
and  of  men;  your  majesty  healed  it,  and  I  lay  it  thankfully 
and  humbly  at  your  feet.  This  is  my  whole  history,  and 
truly  it  is  a  wonderful  one.  I  have  found  a  manly  king  and 
a  kingly  man."  t 

"  Truly,  such  a  king  is  the  wonder  of  the  world,'*  said 
Voltaire.  "  A  king,  who  being  a  king,  is  still  a  man,  and 
being  a  man  is  still  a  noble  king.  I  believe  the  history  of 
the  world  gives  few  such  examples.  If  we  search  the  records 
of  all  people,  we  will  find  that  all  their  kings  have  committed 
many  crimes  and  follies,  and  but  few  great,  magnanimous 
deeds.  No,  no !  let  us  never  hope  to  civilize  kings.  In  vain 
have  men  sought  to  soften  them  by  the  help  of  art;  in  vain 
taught  them  to  love  it  and  to  cultivate  it.  They  are  always 
lions,  who  seemed  to  be  tamed  when  perpetually  flattered. 
They  remain,  in  truth,  always  wild,  bloodthirsty,  and  fantas- 
tic. In  the  moment  when  you  least  expect  it,  the  instinct 
awakens,  and  we  fall  a  sacrifice  to  their  claws  or  their 
teeth."  t 

The  king,  who,  up  to  this  time,  had  listened,  with  a  smil- 

*  Bastiani's  own  words. — See  Thi^bault,  p.  43. 

+  Algarotti's  own  words.  J  Thidbault 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    415 

ing  face,  to  the  passionate  and  bitter  speech  of  Voltaire,  now 
rose  from  his  seat,  and  pointing  his  finger  threateningly  at 
him,  said,  good-humoredly :  "  Still,  still,  monsieur !  Be- 
ware !  I  believe  the  king  comes !  Lower  your  voice,  Vol- 
taire, that  he  may  not  hear  you.  If  he  heard  you,  he  might 
consider  it  his  duty  to  be  even  worse  than  yourself.  *  Be- 
^  sides,  it  is  late.  Let  us  not  await  the  coming  of  the  king, 
^  but  withdraw  very  quietly.     Good-night,  messieurs." 

With  a  gracious  but  proud  nod  of  his  head,  he  greeted 
the  company  and  withdrew. 


CHAPTER   V. 

ROME  SAUV6e, 

The  whole  court  was  in  a  state  of  wild  excitement.  A 
rare  spectacle  was  preparing  for  them — something  unheard 
of  in  the  annals  of  the  Berliners.  Voltaire's  new  drama  of 
"  Catiline,"  to  which  he  had  now  given  the  name  of  "  Rome 
Saved,"  was  to  be  given  in  the  royal  palace,  in  a  private 
theatre  gotten  up  for  the  occasion,  and  the  actors  and  ac- 
tresses were  to  be  no  common  artistes,  but  selected  from  the 
highest  court  circles.  Princess  Amelia  had  the  role  of 
Aurelia,  Prince  Henry  of  Julius  CaBsar,  and  Voltaire  of 
Cicero. 

The  last  rehearsal  was  to  take  place  that  morning.  Vol- 
taire had  shown  himself  in  his  former  unbridled  license,  his 
biting  irony,  his  cutting  sarcasm.  Not  an  actor  or  actress 
escaped  his  censure  or  his  scorn.  The  poor  poet  D'Arnaud 
had  been  the  special  subject  of  his  mocking  wit.  D'Arnaud 
had  once  been  Voltaire's  favorite  scholar,  and  he  had  com- 
mended him  highly  to  the  king.  He  had  the  misfortune  to 
please  Frederick,  who  had  addressed  to  him  a  flattering 
poem.  For  this  reason  Voltaire  hated  him,  and  sought  con- 
tinually to  deprive  him  of  Frederick's  favor  and  get  him 
banished  from  court. 

*  The  king's  own  words. 


4-16  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

This  morning,  for  the  first  time,  there  was  open  strife  l»e> 
tween  them,  and  the  part  which  D'Arnaud  had  to  play  in 
"  Rome  Sauvee "  gave  occasion  for  the  diiiiculty.  D'Ar- 
naud, it  is  true,  had  but  two  words  to  say,  but  his  enuncia- 
tion did  not  please  Voltaire.  He  declared  that  D'Arnaud 
uttered  them  intentionally  and  maliciously  with  coldness 
and  indifference. 

D'Arnaud  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said  a  speech  of 
two  words  did  not  admit  of  power  or  action.  He  asked 
what  declamation  could  possibly  do  for  two  insignificant 
words,  but  make  them  ridiculous. 

This  roused  Voltaire's  rage  to  the  highest  pitch.  "And 
this  utterance  of  two  words  is  then  beyond  your  ability? 
It  appears  you  cannot  speak  two  words  with  proper  em- 
phasis ! "  * 

And  now,  with  fiery  eloquence,  he  began  to  show  that 
upon  these  words  hung  the  merit  of  the  drama;  that  this 
speech  was  the  most  important  of  all!  With  jeers  and  sar- 
casm he  drove  poor  D'Arnaud  to  the  wall,  who,  breathless, 
raging,  choking,  could  find  no  words  nor  strength  to  reply. 
He  was  dumb,  cast  down,  humiliated. 

The  merry  laughter  of  the  king,  who  greatly  enjoyed 
the  scene,  and  the  general  amusement,  increased  the  pain  of 
his  defeat,  and  made  the  triumph  of  Voltaire  more  complete. 

At  last,  however,  the  parts  were  well  learned,  and  even 
Voltaire  was  content  with  his  company.  This  evening  the 
entire  court  was  to  witness  the  performance  of  the  drama, 
which  Voltaire  called  his  master-work. 

Princess  Amelia  had  the  role  of  Aurelia.  She  had  with- 
drawn to  her  rooms,  and  had  asked  permission  of  the  queen- 
mother  to  absent  herself  from  dinner.  Her  part  was  diffi- 
cult, and  she  needed  preparation  and  rest. 

•  In  a  letter  to  Madame  Denis,  Voltaire  wrote  :  "  Tout  le  monde  me  re- 
proche  que  le  roi  a  fait  des  vers  pour  d'Arnaud,  des  vers  qui  ne  eont  pas  ce 
ou'il  a  fait  de  niieux ;  mais  songez  qu'a  quatre  cent  lieues  de  Paris  il  est  bien 
ailHcile  de  savoir  si  un  homme  qu'on  lui  recomniende  a  du  m^rite  ou  non ;  de 
plus  c'est  toujours  des  vers,  et  bien  ou  mal  appliques  ils  prouvent  que  le  vain- 
queur  de  I'Autriche  aime  les  belles-lettres  que  j'aime  de  tout  men  coeur. 
D'ailleurs  D'Arnaud  est  un  bon  diable.  qui  par-ci  "par-la  ne  laisse  pas  de  ren- 
contrer  de  bons  tirades.  11  a  du  (srout,  il  se  forme,  et  s'il  aime  ciu'il  se  ddforme, 
il  n'y  a  pas  grand  mal.  En  un  mot,  la  petite  mtprise  du  Boi  de  Prusse  n'omT 
poclie  pas  qu'il  ne  eoit  le  plus  singulier  de  tons  les  hommen."— Voyea  "  (Eij' 
vres  Completes," 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    417 

But  the  princess  was  not  occupied  with  her  role,  or  with 
the  arrangement  of  her  toilet.  She  lay  stretched  upon  the 
divan,  and  gazed  with  tearful  eyes  upon  the  letter  which  she 
held  in  her  trembling  hands.  Mademoiselle  von  Haak  was 
kneeling  near  her,  and  looking  up  with  tender  sympathy 
upon  the  princess. 

"  What  torture,  what  martyrdom  I  suffer !  "  said  Amelia. 
"  I  must  laugh  while  my  heart  is  filled  with  despair ;  I  must 
take  part  in  the  pomps  and  fetes  of  this  riotous  court,  while 
thick  darkness  is  round  about  me.  Xo  gleam  of  light,  no 
star  of  hope,  do  I  see.  Oh,  Ernestine,  do  not  ask  me  to  be 
calm  and  silent!  Grant  me  at  least  the  relief  of  giving  ex- 
pression to  my  sorrow." 

"  Dear  princess,  why  do  you  nourish  your  grief  ?  Why 
will  you  tear  open  the  wounds  of  your  heart  once  more  ? " 

"  Those  wounds  have  never  healed,"  cried  Amelia,  pas- 
sionately. "  No !  they  have  been  always  bleeding — always 
painful.  Do  you  think  so  pitifully  of  me,  Ernestine,  as  to 
believe  that  a  few  years  have  been  sufficient  to  teach  me  to 
forget?" 

"  Am  I  not  also  called  upon  to  learn  to  forget  ? "  cried^ 
Ernestine,  bitterly.  "  Is  not  my  life's  happiness  destroyed  ? 
Am  I  not  eternally  separated  from  my  beloved?  Alas! 
princess,  you  are  much  happier  than  I !  You  know  where, 
at  least  in  thought,  you  can  find  your  unhappy  friend.  Not 
the  faintest  sound  in  the  distance  gives  answer  to  my  wild 
questionings.  My  thoughts  are  wandering  listlessly,  wearily. 
They  know  not  where  to  seek  my  lover — whether  he  lies  in 
the  dark  fortress,  or  in  the  prison-house  of  the  grave." 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Amelia,  thoughtfully ;  "  our  fates  are 
indeed  pi  liable!  Oh,  Ernestine,  what  have  I  not  suffered  in 
the  last  five  years,  during  which  I  have  not  seen  Trenck? — 
five  years  of  self-restraint,  of  silence,  of  desolation!  How 
often  have  I  believed  that  I  could  not  support  my  secret 
griefs — that  death  must  come  to  my  relief!  How  often, 
with  rouged  cheeks  and  laughing  lips,  conversing  gayly  with 
the  glittering  court  circle  whose  centre  my  cruel  brother 
forced  me  to  be,  have  my  troubled  thoughts  wandered  far, 
far  away  to  my  darling;  from  whom  the  winds  brought  me 
no  message,   the   stars   no  greeting;  and  yet  I   knew   that 


418  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OE, 

he  lived,  and  loved  me  still !  If  Trenck  were  dead,  he  would 
appear  to  me  in  spirit.  Had  he  forgotten  me,  I  should  know 
it;  the  knowledge  would  pierce  my  heart,  and  I  should  die 
that  instant.  I  know  that  he  has  written  to  me,  and  that  all 
his  dear  letters  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  base  spiea 
with  which  my  brother  has  surrounded  me.  But  I  am  not 
mad!  I  will  be  calm;  a  day  may  come  in  which  Trenck 
may  require  my  help.  I  will  not  slay  myself;  some  day  I 
may  be  necessary  to  him  I  love.  I  have  long  lived,  as  the 
condemned  in  hell,  who,  in  the  midst  of  burning  torture, 
open  both  eyes  and  ears  waiting  for  the  moment  when  the 
blessed  Saviour  will  come  for  their  release.  God  has  at 
last  been  merciful;  He  has  blinded  the  eyes  of  my  perse- 
cutors, and  this  letter  came  saffely  to  my  hands.  Oh,  Ernes- 
tine, look!  look!  a  letter  from  Trenck!  He  loves  me — ho 
has  not  forgotten  me — he  calls  for  me!  Oh,  my  God!  my 
God!  why  has  fate  bound  me  so  inexorably?  Why  was  I 
born  to  a  throne,  whose  splendor  has  not  lighted  my  path, 
but  cast  me  in  the  shadow  of  death  ?  Why  am  I  not  poor  and 
obscure?  Then  I  might  hasten  to  my  beloved  when  he 
calls  me.  I  might  stand  by  his  side  in  his  misfortunes,  and 
share  his  sorrows  and  his  tears." 

"  Deiar  princess,  you  can  alleviate  his  fate.  Look  at  me ! 
I  am  poor,  obscure,  and  dependent,  and  yet  I  cannot  hasten 
to  my  beloved ;  he  is  in  distress,  and  ^et  he  does  not  call 
upon  me  for  relief.  He  knows  that  I  cannot  help  him.  You, 
princess,  thanks  to  your  rank,  have  power  and  influence. 
Trenck  calls  you,  and  you  are  here  to  aid  and  comfort." 

"  God  grant  that  I  may.  Trenck  implores  me  to  turn  to 
my  brother,  and  ask  him  to  interest  the  Prussian  embassy  in 
Vienna  in  his  favor;  thereby  hoping  to  put  an  end  to  the 
process  by  which  he  is  about  to  be  deprived  of  his  only  in- 
heritance— the  estate  left  him  by  his  cousin,  the  captain  of 
the  pandours.  Alas !  can  I  speak  with  my  brother  of  Trenck  ? 
He  knows  not  that  for  five  years  his  name  has  never  passed 
my  lips ;  he  knows  not  that  I  have  never  been  alone  with  my 
brother  the  king  for  one  moment  since  that  eventful  day  in 
which  I  promised  to  give  him  up  forever.  We  have  both 
avoided  an  interview;  he,  because  he  shrank  from  my 
prayers  and  tears,  and  I,  because  a  crust  of  ice  had  formed 


PREDEEICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    419 

over  my  love  for  him,  and  I  would  not  allow  it  to  melt  be- 
neath his  smiles  and  kindly  words.  I  loved  Trenck  with 
my  whole  heart,  I  was  resolved  to  be  faithful  to  him,  and  I 
was  resentful  toward  my  brother.  K^ow,  Ernestine,  I  must 
overcome  myself,  I  must  speak  with  the  king;  Trenck  needs 
my  services,  and  I  will  have  courage  to  plead  for  him." 

"  What  will  your  highness  ask  ?  think  well,  princess,  be- 
fore you  act.  Who  knows  but  that  the  king  has  entirely 
forgotten  Trenck?  Perhaps  it  were  best  so.  You  should 
.not  point  out  to  the  angry  lion  the  insect  which  has  awakened 
him,  he  will  crush  it  in  his  passion.  Trenck  is  in  want; 
send  him  gold — gold  to  bribe  the  men  of  law.  It  is  well- 
known  that  the  counsellors-at-law  are  dull-eyed  enough  to 
mistake  sometimes  the  glitter  of  gold  for  the  glitter  of  the 
sun  of  justice.  Send  him  gold,  much  gold,  and  he  will  tame 
the  tigers  who  lie  round  about  the  courts  of  justice,  and  he 
will  win  his  suit." 

Princess  Amelia  shrugged  her  shoulders  contemptuously. 
"He  calls  upon  me  for  help,  and  I  send  him  nothing  but 
empty  gold ;  he  asks  for  my  assistance,  and  I  play  the  coward 
and  hold  my  peace.  Xo,  no!  I  will  act,  and  I  will  act  to- 
day !  You  know  that  only  after  the  most  urgent  entreaty  of 
the  king,  I  consented  to  appear  in  this  drama.  While  my 
brother  pleaded  with  me,  he  said,  with  his  most  winning 
smile,  *  Grant  me  this  favor,  my  sister,  and  be  assured  that 
the  first  petition  you  make  of  me,  I  will  accord  cheerfully.' 
Xow,  then,  I  will  remind  him  of  this  promise;  I  will  plead 
for  Trenck,  and  he  dare  not  refuse.  Oh,  Ernestine !  I  know 
not  surely,  but  it  appears  to  me  that  for  some  little  time  past 
the  king  loves  me  more  tenderly  than  heretofore;  his  eye 
rests  upon  me  with  pleasure,  and  often  it  seems  to  me  his 
soft  glance  is  imploring  my  love  in  return.  You  may  call 
me  childish,  foolish;  but  I  think,  sometimes,  that  my  silent 
submission  has  touched  his  heart,  and  he  is  at  last  disposed 
to  be  merciful,  and  allow  me  to  be  happy — happy,  in  pUowing 
me  to  flee  from  the  vain  glory  of  «,  court ;  in  forgetting  that 
I  am  a  princess,  and  remembering  only  that  I  am  a  woman, 
to  whom  God  has  given  a  heart  capable  of  love."  Amelia 
did  not  see  the  melancholy  gaze  with  which  her  friend  re- 
garded her;  she  was  full  of  ardor  and  enthusiasm,  and  with 
27 


420  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  Ofi, 

sparkling  eyes  and  throbbing  breast  she  sprang  from  the 
divan  and  cried  out,  "  Yes,  it  is  so ;  my  brother  will  make  me 
happy !  " 

"  Alas,  princess,  do  not  dare  to  rely  upon  so  false  a  hope ! 
Never  will  the  king  consent  that  you  shall  be  happy  beneath 
your  royal  rank !  " 

"  Tell  me  now,  Ernestine,"  said  Amelia,  with  a  smile, 
"  is  not  the  reigning  Margravine  of  Baireuth  as  high  in 
rank  as  I  am  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  highness,"  said  Ernestine,  with  surprise, 
"  for  the  reigning  Margravine  of  Baireuth  is  your  exalted 
sister." 

"  I  do  not  speak  of  her,  but  of  the  widow  of  the  former 
margrave.  She  has  also  reigned.  Well,  she  has  just  mar- 
ried the  young  Duke  Hobitz.  The  king  told  me  this  yester- 
day, with  a  merry  laugh.  The  little  Duchess  of  Hobitz  is 
his  aunt,  and  I  am  his  sister !  " 

"  If  the  king  had  had  power  to  control  his  aunt,  as  he  has 
to  control  his  sister,  he  would  not  have  allowed  this  mar- 
riage." 

Amelia  heard,  but  she  did  not  believe.  With  hasty  steps 
and  sparkling  eyes  she  walked  backward  and  forward  in  her 
room;  then,  after  a  long  pause,  she  drew  near  her  friend, 
and  laying  her  hands  upon  her  shoulders,  she  said :  "  You  are 
a  good  soul  and  a  faithful  friend;  you  have  ever  had  a  pa- 
tient and  willing  ear  for  all  my  complaints.  Only  think  now 
how  charming  it  will  be  when  I  come  to  tell  you  of  my  great 
happiness.  And  now,  Ernestine,  come,  you  must  go  over  my 
part  with  me  once  more,  and  then  arrange  my  toilet.  I  will 
be  lovely  this  evening,  in  order  to  please  the  king.  I  will 
play  like  an  artiste  in  order  to  touch  his  cold  heart.  If  I 
act  my  part  with  such  truth  and  burning  eloquence  that  he 
is  forced  to  weep  over  the  sorrows  of  the  wretched  and  loving 
woman  whom  I  represent,  will  not  his  heart  be  softened, 
will  he  not  take  pity  upon  my  blasted  life?  The  tragic  part 
I  play  will  lend  me  words  of  fire  to  depict  my  own  agony. 
Come,  then,  Ernestine,  come !  I  must  act  well  my  tragedy — 
I  must  win  the  heart  of  my  king ! " 

The  princess  kept  her  word;  she  played  with  power  and 
genius.    Words  of  passion  and  of  pain  flowed  like  a  stream 


FREDERICK  THE    GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    421 

of  lava  from  her  lips;  her  oaths  of  faith  and  eternal  con- 
stancy, her  wild  entreaties,  her  resignation,  her  despair, 
were  not  the  high-flown,  pompous  phrases  of  the  tragedian, 
but  truth  in  its  omnipotence.  It  was  living  passion,  it  was 
breathing  agony ;  and,  with  fast-flowing  tears,  with  the  pallor 
of  death,  she  told  her  tale  of  love;  and  in  that  vast  saloon, 
glittering  with  jewels,  filled  with  the  high-born,  the  brave, 
the  beautiful,  nothing  was  heard  but  long-drawn  sighs  and 
choking  sobs. 

Queen  Elizabeth  Christine  forgot  all  etiquette  in  the  re- 
membrance of  her  own  sad  fate  so  powerfully  recalled.  She 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  bitter  tears  fell  over 
her  slender  fingers.  The  queen-mother,  surprised  at  her 
own  emotion,  whispered  lightly  that  it  was  very  warm,  and 
while  fanning  herself  she  sought  to  dry  her  secret  tears  un- 
noticed. 

Even  the  king  was  moved;  his  eyes  were  misty,  and  in- 
describable melancholy  played  upon  his  lips.  Voltaire  was 
wild  with  rapture;  he  hung  upon  every  movement,  every 
glance  of  Amelia.  Words  of  glowing  praise,  thanks,  admira- 
tion flowed  from  his  lips.  He  met  the  princess  behind  the 
scenes,  and  forgetting  all  else  he  cried  out,  with  enthusiasm : 
"  You  are  worthy  to  be  an  actress,  and  to  play  in  Voltaire's 
tragedies !  " 

The  princess  smiled  and  passed  on  silently — what  cared 
she  for  Voltaire's  praise?  She  knew  that  she  had  gained 
her  object,  and  that  the  king's  heart  was  softened.  This 
knowledge  made  her  bright  and  brave ;  and  when  at  the  close 
of  the  drama  the  king  came  forward,  embraced  her  with 
warmth,  and  thanked  her  in  fond  and  tender  words  for  the 
rich  enjoyment  of  the  evening,  due  not  only  to  the  great  poet 
Voltaire,  but  also  to  the  genius  of  his  sister,  she  reminded 
him  smilingly  that  she  had  a  favor  to  ask. 

"  I  pray  you,  my  sister,"  said  Frederick,  gayly,  "  ask 
something  right  royal  from  me  this  evening — I  am  in  the 
mood  to  grant  all  your  wishes." 

Amelia  looked  at  him  pleadingly.  "  Sire,"  said  she, 
"  appoint  an  hour  to-morrow  morning  in  which  I  may  come 
to  you  and  make  known  my  request.  Remember,  your  maj- 
esty has  promised  to  g^rant  it  in  advance," 


422  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

The  king's  face  was  slightly  clouded.  "  This  is,  indeed, 
a  happy  coincidence,"  said  he.  "  It  was  my  intention  to 
ask  an  interview  with  you  to-morrow,  and  now  you  come 
forward  voluntarily  to  meet  my  wishes.  At  ten  in  the 
morning  I  shall  be  with  you,  and  I  also  have  something  to 
ask." 

"I  will  then  await  you  at  ten  o'clock,  and  make  known 
my  request." 

"  And  when  I  have  granted  it,  my  sister,  it  will  be  your 
part  to  fulfil  my  wishes  also." 


CHAPTER  VI. 
A  woman's  heart. 

The  Princess  Amelia  lay  the  whole  of  the  following 
night,  with  'wide-open  eyes  and  loudly-beating  heart,  pale 
and  breathless  upon  her  couch.  No  soft  slumber  soothed 
her  feverish-glowing  brow;  no  sweet  dream  of  hope  dis- 
sipated the  frightful  pictures  drawn  by  her  tortured  fantasy. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  she,  again  and  again — "  what  is  it 
that  the  king  will  ask  of  me?  what  new  mysterious  horror 
rises  up  threateningly  before  me,  and  casts  a  shadow  upon 
my  future  ? " 

She  brought  every  word,  every  act  of  the  previous  day 
in  review  before  her  mind.  Suddenly  she  recalled  the  sad 
and  sympathetic  glance  of  her  maid  of  honor;  the  light  in- 
sinuations, the  half-uttered  words  which  seemed  to  convey 
a  hidden  meaning. 

"  Ernestine  knows  something  that  she  will  not  tell  me,'* 
cried  Amelia.  At  this  thought  her  brow  was  covered  with 
cold  perspiration,  and  her  limbs  shivered  as  if  with  ague. 
She  reached  out  her  hand  to  ring  for  Fraulein  von  Haak; 
then  suddenly  withdrew  it,  ashamed  of  her  own  impatience^ 
"  Why  should  I  wish  to  know  that  which  I  cannot  change  ? 
I  know  that  a  misfortune  threatens  me.  I  will  meet  it  with 
a  clear  brow  an<J  a  bold  heart," 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    423 

Amelia  lay  motionless  till  the  morning.  When  she  rose 
from  her  bed,  her  features  wore  an  expression  of  inexorable 
resolve.  Her  eyes  flashed  as  boldly,  as  daringly  as  her  royal 
brother  Frederick's  when  upon  the  battle-field.  She  dressed 
herself  carefully  and  tastefully,  advanced  to  meet  her  ladies 
with  a  gracious  greeting,  and  chattered  calmly  and  cheer- , 
fully  with  them  on  indifferent  subjects.  At  last  she  was  left 
alone  with  Fraulein  von  Haak.  She  stepped  in  front  of  her, 
and  looked  in  her  eyes  long  and  searchiugly. 

"  I  read  it  in  your  face,  Ernestine,  but  I  entreat  you  do 
not  make  it  known  in  words  unless  my  knowledge  of  the 
facts  would  diminish  my  danger." 

Ernestine  shook  her  head  sadly.  "  No,"  said  she,  "  your 
royal  highness  has  no  power  over  the  misfortune  that  threat- 
ens you.  You  are  a  princess,  and  must  be  obedient  to  the 
will  of  the  king." 

"  Good  1 "  said  Amelia,  "  we  will  see  if  my  brother  has 
power  to  subdue  my  will.  Now,  Ernestine,  leave  me;  I  am 
expecting  the  king." 

Scarcely  had  her  maid  withdrawn,  when  the  door  of  the 
anteroom  was  opened,  and  the  king  was  announced.  The 
princess  advanced  to  meet  him  smilingly,  but,  as  the  king 
embraced  her  and  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  brow,  she  shud- 
dered and  looked  up  at  him  searchingly.  She  read  nothing 
in  his  face  but  the  most  heart-felt  kindliness  and  love. 

"  If  he  makes  me  miserable,  it  is  at  least  not  his  intension 
to  do  so,"  thought  she. — "  Now,  my  brother,  we  are  alone," 
said  the  princess,  taking  a  place  near  the  king  upon  the 
divan.  "  And  now  allow  me  to  make  known  my  request  at 
once — 'remember  you  have  promised  to  grant  it." 

The  king  looked  with  a  piercing  glance  at  the  sweet  face 
now  trembling  with  excitement  and  impatience.  "  Amelia," 
said  he,  "  have  you  no  tender  word  of  greeting,  of  warm 
home-love  to  say  to  me?  Do  you  not  know  that  five  years 
have  passed  since  we  have  seen  each  other  alone,  and  enjoyed 
that  loving  and  confidential  intercourse  which  becomes 
brothers  and  sisters  ?  " 

"  I  know,"  said  Amelia  sadly,  "  these  five  years  are 
written  on  my  countenance,  and  if  they  have  not  left 
wrinkles  on  my  brow,  they  have  pierced  my  heart  with  many 


424  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCi;  OR, 

sorrows,  and  left  their  shadows  there!  Look  at  me,  my 
brother — am  I  the  same  sister  Amelia  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  king,  "  no !  You  are  pallid — your  cheeks 
are  hollow.  But  it  is  strange — I  see  this  now  for  the  first 
time.  You  have  been  an  image  of  youth,  beauty,  and  grace 
up  to  this  hour.  The  fatigue  of  yesterday  has  exhausted 
you — that  is  all." 

"  No,  my  brother,  you  find  me  pallid  and  hollow-eyed  to- 
day, because  you  see  me  without  rouge.  I  have  to-day  for 
the  first  time  laid  aside  the  mask  of  rosy  youth,  and  the  smil- 
ing indifference  of  manner  with  which  I  conceal  my  face 
and  my  heart  from  the  world.  You  shall  see  me  to-day  as 
I  really  am;  you  shall  know  what  I  have  suffered.  Perhaps 
then  you  will  be  more  willing  to  fulfil  my  request?  Listen, 
my  brother,  I — " 

The  king  laid  his  hand  softly  upon  her  shoulder.  "  Stop, 
Amelia ;  since  I  look  upon  you,  I  fear  you  will  ask  me  some- 
thing not  in  my  power  to  grant." 

"  You  have  given  me  your  promise,  sire." 

"  I  will  not  withdraw  it ;  but  I  ask  you  to  hear  my  prayer 
before  you  speak.  Perhaps  it  may  exert  an  influence — ^may 
modify  your  request.  I  allow  myself,  therefore,  in  con- 
sideration of  your  own  interest,  solely  to  beg  that  I  may 
speak  first." 

"  You  are  king,  sire,  and  have  only  to  command,"  said 
Amelia,  coldly. 

The  king  fixed  a  clear  and  piercing  glance  for  one  mo- 
ment upon  his  sister,  then  stood  up,  and,  assuming  an  earnest 
and  thoughtful  mien,  he  said :  "  I  stand  now  before  you, 
princess,  not  as  a  king,  but  as  the  ambassador  of  a  king. 
Princess  Amelia,  through  me  the  King  of  Denmark  asks 
your  hand;  he  wishes  to  wed  you,  and  I  have  given  my  con- 
sent. Your  approval  alone  is  wanting,  and  I  think  you  will 
not  refuse  it." 

The  princess  listened  with  silent  and  intrepid  composure ; 
not  a  muscle  of  her  face  trembled ;  her  features  did  not  lose 
for  one  moment  their  expression  of  quiet  resolve. 

"  Have  you  finished,  sire  ?  "  said  she,  indifferently. 

"  I  have  finished,  and  I  await  your  reply." 

"  Before  I  answer,  allow  me  to  make  known  my  own  re- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     425 

quest.  Perhaps  what  I  may  say  may  modify  your  wishes. 
You  will,  at  least,  know  if  it  is  proper  for  me  to  accept  the 
hand  of  the  King  of  Denmark.  Does  your  majesty  allow  me 
to  speak  ? " 

"  Speak,"  said  the  king,  seating  himself  near  her. 

After  a  short  pause,  Amelia  said,  in  an  earnest,  solemn 
voice :  "  Sire,  I  pray  for  pardon  for  the  Baron  Frederick  von 
Trenck."  Yielding  to  an  involuntary  agitation,  she  glided 
from  the  divan  upon  her  knees,  and  raising  her  clasped 
hands  entreatingly  toward  her  brother,  she  repeated :  "  Sire, 
I  pray  for  pardon  for  Baron  Frederick  von  Trenck !  " 

The  king  sprang  up,  dashed  back  the  hands  of  his  sister 
violently,  and  rushed  hastily  backward  and  forward  in  the 
room. 

Amelia,  ashamed  of  her  own  humility,  rose  quickly  from 
her  knees,  and,  as  if  to  convince  herself  of  her  own  daring 
and  resolution,  she  stepped  immediately  in  front  of  the  king, 
and  said,  in  a  loud,  firm  voice  for  the  third  time :  "  Sire,  I 
pray  for  pardon  for  Baron  Frederick  von  Trenck.  He  is 
wretched  because  he  is  banished  from  his  home ;  he  is  in 
despair  because  he  receives  no  justice  from  the  courts  of  law, 
it  being  well  known  that  he  has  no  protector  to  demand  his 
rights.  He  is  poor  and  almost  hopeless  because  the  courts 
have  refused  him  the  inheritance  of  his  cousin,  the  captain 
of  the  pandours  whose  enemies  have  accused  him  since  his 
death,  only  while  they  lusted  for  his  millions.  His  vast  es- 
tate has  been  confiscated,  under  the  pretence  that  it  was  un- 
lawfully acquired.  But  these  accusations  have  not  been  es- 
tablished; and  yet,  now  that  he  is  dead,  they  refuse  to  give 
up  this  fortune  to  the  rightful  heir,  Frederick  von  Trenck. 
Sire,  I  pray  that  you  will  regard  the  interests  of  your  sub- 
ject. Be  graciously  pleased  to  grant  him  the  favor  of  your 
intercession.  Help  him,  by  one  powerful  word,  to  obtain 
possession  of  his  rights.  Ah,  sire,  you  see  well  how  modest, 
how  faint-hearted  I  have  become.  I  ask  no  longer  for  happi- 
ness !  I  beg  for  gold,  and  I  think,  sire,  we  owe  him  this  piti- 
ful reparation  for  a  life's  happiness  trodden  under  foot." 

Frederick  by  a  mighty  effort  succeeded  in  overcoming 
his  rage.  He  was  outwardly  as  calm  as  his  sister;  but  both 
concealed    under   this   cool,    indifferent    exterior    a    strong 


426  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

energy,  an  unfaltering  purpose.  They  were  quiet  because 
they  were  inflexible. 

"  And  this  is  the  favor  you  demand  of  me  ? "  said  the 
king. 

"  The  favor  you  have  promised  to  grant,"  said  Amelia. 

"  And  if  I  do  this,  will  you  fulfil  my  wish  ?  Will  you  be- 
come the  wife  of  the  King  of  Denmark  ?  Ah,  you  are  silent. 
Now,  then,  listen.  Consent  to  become  Queen  of  Denmark, 
and  on  the  day  in  which  you  pass  the  boundary  of  Prussia 
and  enter  your  own  realm  as  queen,  on  that  day  I  will  recall 
Trenck  to  Berlin,  and  all  shall  be  forgotten.  Trenck  shall 
again  enter  my  guard,  and  my  ambassador  at  Vienna  shall 
appear  for  him  in  court.  Decide,  now,  Amelia — will  you 
be  Queen  of  Denmark  ?  " 

"Ah,  sire,  you  offer  me  a  cruel  alternative.  You  wish 
me  to  purchase  a  favor  which  you  had  already  freely  and 
unconditionally  granted." 

"  You  forget,  my  sister,  that  I  entreat  where  I  have  the 
right  to  command.  It  will  be  easy  to  obey  when  through 
your  obedience  you  can  make  another  happy.  Once  more, 
then,  will  you  accept  my  proposition  ?  " 

Amelia  did  not  answer  immediately.  She  fixed  her  eyes 
steadily  upon  the  king's  face;  their  glances  met  firmly, 
quietly.  Each  read  in  the  eyes  of  the  other  inexorable  re-- 
solve. 

"  Sire,  I  cannot  accept  your  proposition ;  I  cannot  be- 
come the  wife  of  the  King  of  Denmark." 

The  king  shrank  back,  and  a  dark  cloud  settled  upon  his 
brow.  He  pressed  his  hand  nervously  upon  the  arm-chair 
near  which  he  stood,  and  forced  himself  to  appear  calm. 
"  And  why  can  you  not  become  the  wife  of  the  King  of  Den- 
mark?" 

"Because  I  have  sworn  solemnly,  calling  upon  God  to 
witness,  that  I  will  never  become  the  wife  of  any  other  man 
than  him  whom  I  love — because  I  consider  myself  bound  to 
God  and  to  my  conscience  to  fulfil  this  oath.  As  I  cannot 
be  the  wife  of  Trenck,  I  will  remain  unmarried." 

And  now  the  king  was  crimson  with  rage,  and  his  eyes 
flashed  fiercely.  "  The  wife  of  Trenck ! "  cried  he ;  "  the 
wife  of  a  traitor!     Ah,  you  think  still  of  him,  and  in  spite 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    427 

of  your  vow — in  spite  of  your  solemn  oath — you  still  enter- 
tain the  hope  of  this  unworthy  alliance !  " 

"  Sire,  remember  on  what  conditions  my  oath  was  given. 
You  promised  me  Trenck  should  be  free,  and  I  swore  to 
give  him  up — never  even  to  write  to  him.  Fate  did  not  ac- 
cept my  oath.  Trenck  fled  before  you  had  time  to  fulfil 
your  word,  and  I  was  thus  released  from  my  vow;  and  yet 
I  have  never  written  to  him — have  heard  nothing  from  him. 
No  one  knows  better  than  yourself  that  I  have  not  heard 
from  him." 

"  So  five  years  have  gone  by  without  his  writing  to  you, 
and  yet  you  have  the  hardihood  to-day  to  call  his  name !  " 

"  I  have  the  courage,  sire,  because  I  know  well  Trenck 
has  never  ceased  to  love  me.  That  I  have  received  no  lettei's 
from  him  does  not  prove  that  he  has  not  written;  it  only 
proves  that  I  am  surrounded  by  watchful  spies,  who  do  not 
allow  his  letters  to  reach  me." 

"Ah,"  said  the  king,  with  a  contemptuous  shrug  of  the 
shoulders,  "you  are  of  the  opinion  that  I  have  suppressed 
these  letters  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  am  of  that  opinion." 

"You  deceive  yourself,  then,  Amelia.  I  have  not  sur- 
rounded you  with  spies;  I  have  intercepted  no  letters.  You 
look  at  me  incredulously.  I  declare  to  yovx  that  I  speak  the 
truth.  Now  you  can  comprehend,  my  sister,  that  your  heart 
has  deceived  you — you  have  squandered  your  love  upon  a 
wretched  object  who  has  forgotten  you." 

"  Sire !  "  cried  Amelia,  with  flaming  eyes,  "  no  abuse  of 
the  man  I  love ! " 

"  You  love  him  still !  "  said  the  king,  white  with  passion, 
and  no  longer  able  to  control  his  rage — "  you  love  him  still ! 
You  have  wept  and  bewailed  him,  while  he  has  shamefully 
betrayed  and  mocked  at  you.  Yes,  look  on  me,  if  you  will, 
with  those  scornful,  rebellious  glances — it  is  as  I  say!  You 
must  and  shall  know  all!  I  have  spared  you  until  now;  I 
trusted  in  your  own  noble  heart !  I  thought  that,  driven  by 
a  storm  of  passion,  it  had,  like  a  proud  river,  for  one  moment 
overstepped  its  bounds;  then  quietly,  calmly  resumed  that 
course  which  natiu'e  and  fate  had  marked  out  for  it.  I  see 
now  that  I  have  been  deceived  in  you.  as  you  have  been  dr- 


428  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

ceived  in  Trenck!  I  tell  you  he  has  betrayed  you!  He, 
formerly  a  Prussian  officer,  at  the  luxurious  and  debauched 
court  of  Petersburg,  has  not  only  betrayed  you,  but  his  king. 
At  the  table  of  his  mistress,  the  wife  of  Bestuchef,  he  has 
shown  your  picture  and  boasted  that  you  gave  it  to  him. 
The  Duke  of  Goltz,  my  ambassador  at  the  Russian  court,  in- 
formed me  of  this ;  and  look  you,  I  did  not  slay  him !  I  did 
not  demand  of  the  Empress  Anne  that  the  Prussian  deserter 
should  be  delivered  up.  I  remembered  that  you  had  once 
loved  him,  and  that  I  had  promised  you  to  be  lenient.  But 
I  have  had  him  closely  watched.  I  know  all  his  deeds;  I 
am  acquainted  with  all  his  intrigues  and  artifices.  I  know 
he  has  had  a  love-affair  with  the  young  Countess  Narischkin 
— that  he  continued  his  attentions  long  after  her  marriage 
with  General  Bondurow.  Can  you  believe,  my  sister,  that 
he  remembered  the  modest,  innocent  oaths  of  love  and  con- 
stancy he  had  exchanged  with  you  while  enjoying  himself  in 
the  presence  of  this  handsome  and  voluptuous  young  woman  ? 
Do  you  believe  that  he  recalled  them  when  he  arranged  a 
plan  of  flight  with  his  beloved,  and  sought  a  safe  asylum  be- 
yond the  borders  of  Russia  ?  Do  you  believe  that  he  thought 
of  you  when  he  received  from  this  ill-regulated  woman  her 
diamonds  and  all  the  gold  she  possessed,  in  orde"'  to  smooth 
the  way  to  their  escape  ?  " 

"  Mercy,  mercy ! "  stammered  Amelia,  pale  and  trem- 
bling, and  sinking  upon  a  seat.  "  Cease,  my  brother ;  do  you 
not  see  that  your  words  are  killing  me?  Have  pity  upon  me!  " 

"  No !  no  mercy !  "  said  the  king ;  "  you  must  and  you 
shall  know  all,  in  order  that  you  may  be  cured  of  this  unholy 
malady,  this  shameful  love.  You  shall  know  that  Trenck  not 
only  sells  the  secrets  of  politics,  but  the  secrets  of  love. 
Every  thing  is  merchandise  with  him,  even  his  own  heart. 
He  not  only  loved  the  beautiful  Bondurow  but  he  loved  her 
diamonds.  This  young  woman  died  of  the  small-pox,  a  few 
days  before  the  plan  of  flight  could  be  fully  arranged. 
Trenck,  however,  became  her  heir;  he  refused  to  give  back 
the  brilliants  and  the  eight  thousand  rubles  which  she  had 
placed  in  his  hands." 

"  Oh  my  God,  my  God !  grant  that  I  die  I "  cried  the 
Princess  Amelia, 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    429 

"But  the  death  of  his  beloved,"  said  the  king  (without 
regarding  the  wild  exclamations  of  the  princess) — "  this 
death  was  so  greatly  to  his  advantage,  that  he  soon  consoled 
himself  with  the  love  of  the  attractive  Bestuchef — this  proud 
and  intriguing  woman  who  now,  through  the  weakness  of 
her  husband,  rules  over  Russia,  and  threatens  by  her  plots 
and  intrigues  to  complicate  the  history  and  peace  of  Europe. 
She  is  neither  young  nor  beautiful ;  she  is  forty  years  of  age, 
and  you  cannot  believe  that  Trenck  at  four-and-twenty 
bums  with  love  for  her.  But  she  adores  him ;  she  loves  him 
with  that  mad,  bacchantic  ardor  which  the  Roman  empress 
Julia  felt  for  the  gladiators,  whose  magnificent  proportions 
she  admired  at  the  circus.  She  loved  him  and  confessed  it; 
and  his  heart,  unsubdued  by  the  ancient  charms,  yielded  to 
the  magic  power  of  her  jewels  and  her  gold.  He  became  the 
adorer  of  Bestuchef;  he  worked  diligently  in  the  cabinet 
of  the  chancellor,  and  appeared  to  be  the  best  of  Russian 
patriots,  and  seemed  ready  to  kiss  the  knout  with  the  same 
devotion  with  which  he  kissed  the  slipper  of  the  chancellor's 
wife.  At  this  time  I  resolved  to  try  his  patriotism,  and  com- 
missioned my  ambassador  to  see  if  his  patriotic  ardor  could 
not  be  cooled  by  gold.  Well,  my  sister,  for  two  thousand 
ducats,  Trenck  copied  the  design  of  the  fortress  of  Cronstadt, 
which  the  chancellor  had  just  received  from  his  engineer." 

"  That  is  impossible !  "  said  Amelia,  whose  tears  had  now 
ceased  to  flow,  and  who  listened  to  her  brother  with  distend- 
ed but  quiet  eyes. 

"  Impossible !  "  said  Frederick.  "  Oh  ray  sister,  gold  has 
a  magic  power  to  which  nothing  is  impossible !  I  wished  to 
unmask  the  traitor  Trenck,  and  expose  him  in  his  true  colors 
to  the  chancellor.  I  ordered  Goltz  to  hand  him  the  copy  of 
the  fortress,  drawn  by  Trenck  and  signed  with  his  name,  and 
to  tell  him  how  he  obtained  it.  The  chancellor  was  beside 
himself  with  rage,  and  swore  to  take  a  right  Russian  re- 
venge upon  the  traitor — he  declared  he  should  die  under  the 
knout." 

Amelia  uttered  a  wild  cry,  and  clasped  her  hands  over  her 
convulsed  face. 

The    king    laughed    bitterly.     "  Compose    yourself — we 
triumphed  too  early;  we  had  forgotten  the  woman!    In  his 


430  BEBLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OB, 

rage  the  chancellor  disclosed  every  thing  to  her,  and  uttered 
the  most  furious  curses  and  resolves  against  Trenck.  She 
found  means  to  warn  him,  and,  when  the  police  came  in  the 
night  to  arrest  him,  he  was  not  at  home — he  had  taken  refuge 
in  the  house  of  his  friend  the  English  ambassador,  Lord 
Hyndf  orth."  * 

"  Ah !  he  was  saved,  then  ?  "  whispered  Amelia. 

The  king  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  "  Yes,  he  was 
saved.  The  next  day,  Madame  Bestuchef  found  means  to 
convince  her  credulous  husband  that  Trenck  was  the  victim 
of  an  intrigue,  and  entirely  innocent  of  the  charge  brought 
against  him.  Trenck  remained,  therefore,  the  friend  of  the 
house,  and  Madame  Bestuchef  had  the  audacity  to  publicly 
insult  my  ambassador.  Trenck  now  announced  himself  as 
a  raging  adversary  of  Prussia.  He  inflamed  the  heart  of 
his  powerful  mistress  with  hate,  and  they  swore  the  destruc- 
tion of  Prussia.  Both  were  zealously  engaged  in  changing 
the  chancellor,  my  private  and  confidential  friend,  into  an 
enemy;  and  Trenck,  the  Russian  patriot,  entered  the  service 
of  the  house  of .  Austria,  to  intrigue  against  me  and  my 
realm.t  Bestuchef,  however,  withstood  these  intrigues,  and 
in  his  distrust  he  watched  over  and  threatened  his  faithless 
wife  and  faithless  friend.  Trenck  would  have  been  lost,  with- 
out doubt,  if  a  lucky  accident  had  not  again  rescued  him.  His 
cousin  the  pandour  died  in  Vienna,  and,  as  Trenck  believed 
that  he  had  left  him  a  fortune  of  some  millions,  he  tore  his 
tender  ties  asunder,  and  hastened  to  Vienna  to  receive  this 
rich  inheritance,  which,  to  his  astonishment,  he  fovmd  to  con- 
sist not  in  millions,  but  in  law  processes.  This,  Amelia,  is 
the  history  of  Trenck  during  these  five  years  in  which  you 
have  received  no  news  from  him.  Can  you  still  say  that  he 
has  never  forgotten  you?  that  you  are  bound  to  be  faithful 
to  him?  You  see  I  do  not  speak  to  you  as  a  king,  but  as  a 
friend,  and  that  I  look  at  all  these  unhappy  circumstances 

*  Trenck'8  Memoirs. 

+  Trenck  himself  writes  on  this  subject :  "  I  would  at  that  time  have 
changed  mv  fatherland  into  a  howling  wildeniees,  if  the  opportunity  had 
offered.  I  do  not  deny  that  from  this  moment  I  did  everything  that  was 
TX)S8ible,  in  Russia,  to  promote  the  views  of  the  imperial  ambassador,  Duke 
Vemls,  who  knew  how  to  nourish  the  fire  already  kindled,  and  to  make  use 
of  my  services." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    43I 

from  your  standpoint.  Treat  me,  then,  as  a  friend,  and  an- 
swer me  sincerely.  Do  you  still  feel  bound  by  your  oath? 
Do  you  not  know  that  he  is  a  faithless  traitor,  and  that  he  has 
forgotten  you  ? " 

The  princess  had  listened  to  the  king  with  a  bowed  head 
and  downcast  eyes.  Now  she  looked  up;  the  fire  of  inspira- 
tion beamed  in  her  eye,  a  melancholy  smile  played  upon  her 
lips. 

"  Sire,"  said  she,  "  I  took  my  vow  without  conditions,  and 
I  will  keep  it  faithfully  till  my  death.  Suppose,  even,  that  a 
part  of  what  you  have  said  is  true,  Trenck  is  young ;  you  can- 
not expect  that  his  ardent  and  passionate  heart  should  be 
buried  under  the  ashes  of  the  vase  of  tears  in  which  our  love, 
in  its  beauty  and  bloom,  crumbled  to  dust.  But  his  heart, 
however  unstable  it  may  appear,  turns  ever  back  faithfully 
to  that  fountain,  and  he  seeks  to  purify  and  sanctify  the 
wild  and  stormy  present  by  the  remembrance  of  the  beautiful 
and  innocent  past.  You  say  that  Trenck  forgot  me  in  his 
prosperity;  well,  then,  sire,  in  his  misfortune  he  has  re- 
membered me.  In  his  misfortune  he  has  forgotten  the  faith- 
less, cold,  and  treacherous  letter  which  I  wrote  to  him,  and 
which  he  received  in  the  prison  of  Glatz.  In  his  wretched- 
ness, he  has  written  to  me,  and  called  upon  me  for  aid.  It 
shall  not  be  said  that  I  did  not  hear  his  voice — that  I  was  not 
joyfully  ready  to  serve  him !  " 

"And  he  has  dared  to  write  to  you !  "  said  the  king,  with 
trembling  lips  and  scornful  eye.  "Who  was  bold  enough 
to  hand  you  this  letter  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sire,  you  will  not  surely  demand  that  I  shall  betray 
my  friends !  Moreover,  if  I  named  the  messenger  who 
brought  me  this  letter,  it  would  answer  no  purpose;  you 
would  arrest  and  punish  him,  and  to-morrow  I  should  find 
another  to  serve  me  as  well.  Unhappy  love  finds  pity,  pro- 
tection, and  friends  everywhere.  Sire,  I  repeat  my  request 
— pardon  for  Baron  Trenck !  " 

"  And  I,"  cried  the  king,  in  a  loud,  stem  voice,  "  I  ask  if 
you  accept  my  proposition — if  ydu  will  become  the  wife  of 
the  King  of  Denanark — and,  mark  well,  princess,  this  is  the 
answer  to  your  prayer." 

"  Sire,  may  God  take  pity  on  me !    Punish  me  with  your 


432  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

utmost  scorn — I  cannot  break  my  oath!  You  can  force  me 
to  leave  my  vows  unfulfilled — not  to  become  the  wife  of  the 
man  I  love — but  you  cannot  force  me  to  perjure  myself.  I 
should  indeed  be  foresworn  if  I  stepped  before  the  altar  with 
another  man,  and  promised  a  love  and  faith  which  my  heart 
knows  not,  and  can  never  know." 

The  king  uttered  a  shrill  cry  of  rage;  maledictions  hung 
upon  his  lips,  but  he  held  them  back,  and  forcing  himself  to 
appear  composed,  he  folded  his  arras,  and  walked  hastily 
backward  and  forward  through  the  room. 

The  princess  gazed  at  him  in  breathless  silence,  and  with 
loudly-beating  heart  she  prayed  to  God  for  mercy  and  help; 
she  felt  that  this  hour  would  decide  the  fate  of  her  whole  life. 
Suddenly  the  king  stood  before  her.  His  countenance  was 
now  perfectly  composed. 

"  Princess  Amelia,"  said  he,  "  I  give  you  four  weeks'  res- 
pite. Consider  well  what  I  have  said  to  you.  Take  counsel 
with  your  conscience,  your  understanding,  and  your  honor. 
In  four  weeks  I  will  come  again  to  you,  and  ask  if  you  are 
resolved  to  fulfil  my  request,  and  become  the  wife  of  the 
King  of  Denmark.  Until  that  time,  I  will  know  how  to 
restrain  the  Danish  ambassador.  If  you  dare  still  to  op- 
pose my  will,  I  will  yet  fulfil  my  promise,  and  grant  you 
the  favor  you  ask  of  me.  I  will  make  proposals  to  Trenck 
to  return  to  Prussia,  and  the  inducements  I  offer  shall 
be  so  splendid  that  he  will  not  resist  them.  Let  me  once 
have  him  here,  and  it  shall  be  my  affair  to  hold  fast  to 
him." 

He  bowed  to  the  princess  and  left  the  room.  Amelia 
watched  him  silently,  breathlessly,  till  he  disappeared,  then 
heaved  a  deep  sigh  and  called  loudly  for  her  maid. 

"  Ernestine !  Ernestine !  "  said  she,  with  trembling  lips, 
"  find  me  a  faithful  messenger  whom  I  can  send  immediately 
to  Vienna.  I  must  warn  Trenck !  Danger  threatens  him ! 
No  matter  what  my  brother's  ambassador  may  offer  him,  with 
what  glittering  promises  he  may  allure  him,  Trenck  dare  not 
listen  to  them,  dare  not  accjept  them !  He  must  never  return 
to  Prussia — he  is  lost  if  he  does  so !  " 

Frederick  returned  slowly  and  silently  to  his  apartment. 
As  he  thought  over  the  agitating  scene  he  had  just  passed 


FREDEKICK  THE  GREAT  AXD  HIS  FRIENDS.    433 

through,  he  murmured  lightly,  "  Oh,  woman's  heart !  thou 
art  like  the  restless,  raging  sea,  and  pearls  and  monsters  lie 
in  thy  depths ! " 


CHAPTEK  VII. 

MADAME  VON  COCCEJI. 

The  Marquis  d'Argens  was  right.  Barbarina  and  her 
sister  had  left  England  and  returned  to  Berlin.  They  occu- 
pied the  same  expensive  and  beautiful  hotel  in  Behren 
Street ;  but  it  was  no  longer  surrounded  by  costly  equipages, 
and  besieged  by  gallant  cavaliers.  The  elite  of  the  court  no 
longer  came  to  wonder  and  to  worship. 

Barbarina's  house  was  lonely  and  deserted,  and  she  her- 
self was  changed.  She  was  iio  longer  the  graceful,  enchant- 
ing prima  donna,  the  floating  sylph;  she  was  a  calm,  proud 
woman,  almost  imposing  in  her  grave,  pale  beauty;  her 
melancholy  smile  touched  the  heart,  while  it  contrasted 
strangely  with  her  flashing  eye. 

Barbarina  was  in  the  same  saloon  where  we  last  saw  her, 
surrounded  with  dukes  and  princes — worshippers  at  her 
shrine !  To-day  she  was  alone ;  no  one  was  by  her  side  but 
her  faithful  sister  Marietta.  She  lay  stretched  upon  the 
divan,  with  her  arms  folded  across  her  bosom;  her  head  was 
thrown  back  upon  the  white,  gold-embroidered  cushion,  and 
her  long,  black  curls  fell  in  rich  profusion  around  her;  with 
wide-open  eyes  she  stared  upon  the  ceiling,  completely  lost 
in  sad  and  painful  thoughts.  At  a  small  table  by  her  side 
sat  her  sister  Marietta,  busily  occupied  in  opening  and  read- 
ing the  letters  with  which  the  table  was  covered. 

And  now  she  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and  a  happy  smile 
played  upon  her  face.  "  A  letter  from  Milan,  from  the  im- 
pressario,  Bintelli,"  said  she, 

Barbarina  remained  immovable,  and  still  stared  at  the 
ceiling. 

"  Binatelli  offers  you  a  magnificent  engagement;  he  de- 
clares that  all  Italy  languishes  with  impatience  to  see  you. 


434  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OB, 

that  every  city  implores  your  presence,  and  he  is  ambitious 
to  be  the  first  to  allure  you  back  to  your  fatherland." 

"  Did  you  write  to  him  that  I  desired  an  engagement  ? " 
said  Barbarina. 

"  No,  sister,"  said  Marietta,  slightly  blushing ;  "  I  wrote 
to  him  as  to  an  old  and  valued  friend;  I  described  the  rest- 
less, wearj',  nomadic  life  we  were  leading,  and  told  him  you 
had  left  the  London  stage  fprever." 

"  And  does  it  follow  that  I  will  therefore  appear  in  Milan  ? 
"Write  at  once  that  I  am  grateful  for  his  offer,  but  neither  in 
Milan  nor  any  other  Italian  city  will  I  appear  upon  the 
stage." 

"  Ah,  Barbarina,  will  we  never  again  return  to  our  beauti- 
ful Italy  ? "  said  Marietta,  tearfully. 

"  Did  I  say  that,  sister  ?  I  said  only,  I  would  not  appear 
in  public." 

"  But,  Barbarina,  he  entreats  so  earnestly,  and  he  offers 
you  an  enormous  salary !  " 

"  I  am  rich  enough,  Marietta." 

"  No  1  no  one  is  rich  enough !  Money  is  power,  and  the 
more  millions  one  has  to  spend,  the  more  is  one  beloved." 

"  What  care  I  for  the  love  of  men  ?  I  despise  them  all — 
all !  "  cried  Barbarina,  passionately. 

"  What !  all  ? "  said  Marietta,  with  a  meaning  smile ; 
"  all — even  Cocceji  ?  " 

Babarina  raised  herself  hastily,  and  leaning  upon  her 
elbow,  she  gazed  with  surprise  upon  her  sister.  "  You  think, 
then,  that  I  love  Cocceji  ?  " 

"  Did  you  not  tell  me  so  yourself  ?  " 

"Ahl  I  said  so  myself,  did  I?"  said  Barbarina,  con- 
temptuously, and  sinking  back  into  her  former  quiet  posi- 
tion. 

"  Yes,  sister,  do  you  not  remember,"  said  Marietta,  eager- 
ly ;  "  can  you  not  recall  how  sad  you  were  when  we  left  Ber- 
lin a  year  ago  ?  You  sobbed  and  wept,  and  looked  ever  back- 
ward from  the  carriage,  then  lightly  whispered,  *  My  happi- 
ness, my  life,  my  love  remain  in  Berlin ! '  I  asked  you  in  what 
your  happiness,  your  love,  your  life  consisted.  Your  answer 
was,  *  Do  you  not  know,  then,  that  I  love  Cocceji  ? '  In  truth, 
good  sister  I  did  not  believe  youl    I  thought  you  left  Ber- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    435 

lin  because  the  mother  of  Cocceji  implored  you  to  do  so. 
I  know  you  to  be  magnanimous  enough  to  sacrifice  yourself 
to  the  prayers  and  happiness  of  another,  and  for  this  reason 
alone  you  went  to  London,  where  Lord  Stuart  McKenzie 
awaited  us." 

"  Poor  lord !  "  said  Barbarina,  thoughtfully.  "  I  sinned 
greatly  against  him !  He  loved  me  fondly ;  he  waited  for  me 
with  constancy;  he  was  so  truly  happy  when  I  came  at  last, 
as  he  hoped,  to  fulfil  my  promise,  and  become  his  wife! 
God  knows  I  meant  to  be  true,  and  I  swore  to  myself  to  make 
him  a  faithful  wife ;  but  my  will  was  weaker  than  my  heart. 
I  could  not  marry  him,  and  on  my  wedding-day  I  fled  from 
London.     Poor  Lord  Stuart !  " 

"  And  on  that  day,  when,  bathed  in  tears,  you  told  me 
to  prepare  to  leave  London  with  you  secretly;  on  that  day 
you  said  to  me,  *  I  cannot,  no,  I  cannot  wed  a  man  I  do  not 
love.  The  air  chokes  me.  Marietta;  I  must  return  to  Ber- 
lin ;  he  is  there  whom  I  love,  whom  I  will  love  eternally ! ' 
I  said  again,  *  Whom  do  you  love,  my  sister  ? '  and  you  re- 
plied, *  I  love  Cocceji ! '  And  now  you  are  amazed  that  I  be- 
lieve you !  Ir  it  possible  that  I  can  doubt  your  word  ?  Is  it 
possible  that  Barbarina  tells  an  untruth  to  her  fond  and 
faithful  sister?  that  she  shrouds  her  heart,  and  will  not 
allow  Marietta  to  read  what  is  written  there  ?  " 

"  If  I  did  that,"  said  Barbarina,  uneasily,  "  it  was  because 
I  shrank  from  reading  my  o^vn  heart.  Be  pitiful.  Marietta, 
do  not  lift  the  veil;  allow  my  poor  heart  to  heal  its  wounds 
in  peace  and  quiet." 

"  It  cannot  heal,  sister,  if  we  remain  here,"  said  Marietta, 
trembling  with  suppressed  tears.  "  Let  us  fly  far,  far  away ; 
accept  the  offer  of  Binatelli;  it  is  the  call  of  God.  Come, 
come,  Barbarina,  we  will  return  to  our  own  Italy,  to  beauti- 
ful Rome.  Remain  no  longer  in  this  cold  north,  by  these  icy 
hearts ! " 

"  I  cannot,  I  cannot !  "  cried  Barbarina,  with  anguish.  "  I 
have  no  fatherland — no  home.  I  am  no  longer  a  Roman,  no 
longer  an  Italian.  I  am  a  wretched,  homeless  wanderer. 
Why  will  not  my  heart  bleed  and  die  ?  Why  am  I  condemned 
to  live,  and  be  conscious  of  this  torture  ? " 

"  Stop,  stop,  my  sister ! "  cried  Marietta,  wildly ;  "  not 
28 


436  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

another  word!  You  are  right;  we  will  not  lift  this  fearful 
veil.     Cover  up  your  heart  in  darkness — it  will  heal !  " 

"  It  will  heal ! "  repeated  Barbarina,  pressing  Marietta 
to  her  bosom  and  weeping  bitterly. 

The  entrance  of  a  servant  aroused  them  both;  Barbarina 
turned  away  to  hide  her  weeping  eyes.  The  servant  an^ 
nounced  a  lady,  who  desired  anxiously  to  speak  with  the 
signora. 

"  Say  to  her  that  Barbarina  is  imwell,  and  can  receive  no 
one." 

In  a  few  moments  the  servant  returned  with  a  card, 
which  he  handed  to  Marietta.  "  The  lady  declared  she 
knew  the  signora  would  receive  her  when  she  saw  the  card." 

"  Madame  Cocceji,"  said  Marietta. 

Barbarina  rose  up  hastily, 

"  Will  you  receive  her  ?  "  asked  Marietta. 

"  I  will  receive  her." 

And  now  a  great  change  passed  over  Barbarina:  all 
melancholy,  all  languor  had  disappeared;  her  eyes  sparkled, 
her  cheeks  glowed  with  an  engaging  smile,  as  she  advanced 
to  greet  the  proud  lady  who  stood  upon  the  threshold. 

"  Ah,  generous  lady,  how  good  you  are !  "  said  Barbarina, 
in  a  slightly  mocking  tone.  "  I  have  but  just  returned  to 
Berlin,  and  you  gladden  my  heart  again  by  your  visit,  and 
grant  me  the  distinction  and  privilege  of  receiving  in  my 
house  one  of  the  most  eminent  and  virtuous  ladies  of 
Berlin." 

Madame  Cocceji  threw  a  contemptuous  glance  upon  tho 
beautiful  young  woman  who  dared  to  look  in  her  face  with 
such  smiling  composure. 

"  I  have  not  come,  madame,  to  visit  you,  but  to  speak  to 
you!" 

"  I  do  not  see  the  distinction ;  we  visit  those  with  whom 
we  wish  to  speak." 

"  We  visit  those  with  whom  we  wish  to  speak,  and  who 
are  trying  to  evade  an  interview!  I  have  sent  to  you  twice, 
signora,  and  commanded  you  to  come  to  me,  but  you  have 
not  obeyed ! " 

"I  am  accustomed  to  receive  those  who  wish,  to  see 
me  at  my  own  house,"  said  Barbarina,  quietly.     "  Indeed, 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    437 

madame,  I  understand  your  language  perhaps  but  poorly. 
Is  it  according  to  the  forms  of  etiquette  to  say,  *  I  have  com- 
manded you  to  come  to  me  ? '  In  my  own  fair  land  we  give 
a  finer  turn  to  our  speech,  and  we  beg  for  the  honor  of  a 
visit."  As  Barbarina  said  this,  she  bowed  with  laughing 
grace  to  the  proud  woman,  who  gazed  at  her  with  suppressed 
rage. 

"  This  is  the  second  time  I  have  been  forced  to  seek  ".. 
interview  with  you." 

"  The  first  time,  madame,  you  came  with  a  petition,  and 
I  was  so  happy  as  to  be  able  to  grant  your  request.  May  I 
be  equally  fortunate  to-day !  Without  doubt  you  come  again 
as  a  petitioner,"  said  Barbarina,  with  the  cunning  manner 
of  a  cat,  who  purrs  while  she  scratches. 

The  proud  Cocceji  was  wounded;  she  frowned  sternly, 
but  suppressed  her  anger.  Barbarina  was  right — she  came 
with  a  request. 

"  I  called  upon  you  a  year  ago,"  said  she,  "  and  implored 
you  to  cure  my  son  of  that  wild  love  which  had  fallen  upon 
him  like  the  fever  of  madness — which  made  him  forget  his 
duty,  his  rank,  his  parents.  I  besought  you  to  leave  Berlin, 
and  withdraw  from  his  sight  that  magical  beauty  which  had 
seduced  him." 

"  And  I  declared  myself  ready  to  grant  your  petition," 
interrupted  Barbarina.  "Yes,  I  conformed  myself  to  your 
wishes,  and  left  Berlin,  not,  however,  I  confess,  to  do  you  a 
service,  but  because  I  did  not  love  your  son;  and  there  is 
nothing  more  dull  and  wearisome  than  to  listen  to  protesta- 
tions of  love  that  you  cannot  return.  But  look  you,  gracious 
lady,  that  is  a  misfortune  that  pursues  me  at  every  step.  I 
left  Berlin  to  escape  this  evil,  and  fled  to  London,  to  find 
there  the  same  old  story  of  a  love  I  could  not  return.  I  fled 
then  from  London,  to  escape  the  danger  of  becoming  the 
wife  of  Lord  Stuart  McKenzie." 

"Why  did  you  return  to  Berlin?"  said  Madame  Cocceji, 
in  an  imperious  tone. 

Barbarina  looked  up  surprised.  "  Madame,"  said  she, 
"  for  that  step  I  am  accountable  to  no  one." 

"  Yes,  you  are  accountable  to  me ! "  cried  Madame 
Cocceji,  enraged  to  the  utmost  by  Barbarina's  proud  com- 


4:38  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

posure.  "  You  are  accountable  to  me — me,  the  mother  of 
Cocceji !  You  have  seduced  him  by  your  charms,  and  driven 
him  to  madness.  He  defies  his  parents  and  the  anger  of  his 
king,  and  yields  himself  up  to  this  shameful  passion,  which 
covers  his  family  with  disgrace." 

Barbarina  uttered  a  cry  of  rage,  and  advanced  a  few  steps. 
"  Madame,"  said  she,  laying  her  hand  upon  the  arm  of 
Madame  Cocceji,  "  you  have  called  this  love  shameful.  You 
have  said  that  an  alliance  with  me  would  disgrace  your 
family.     Take  back  your  words,  I  pray  you !  " 

"  I  retract  nothing.  I  said  but  the  truth,"  cried  Madame 
Cocceji,  freeing  herself  from  Barbarina. 

"  Take  back  your  words,  madame,  for  your  own  sake ! " 
said  Barbarina,  threateningly. 

"  I  cannot,  and  will  not !  "  she  replied,  imperiously,  "  and 
if  your  pride  and  arrogance  has  not  completely  blinded  you, 
in  your  heart  you  will  confess  that  I  am  right.  The  dancer 
Barbarina  can  never  be  the  daughter  of  the  Coccejis.  That 
would  be  a  mockery  of  all  honorable  customs,  would  cast 
contempt  upon  the  graves  of  our  ancestors,  and  bring  shame 
upon  our  nobility.  And  yet  my  unhappy  sou  dares  think  of 
this  dishonor.  In  his  insane  folly,  he  rushed  madly  from  my 
presence,  uttering  words  of  rage  and  bitter  reproach,  because 
I  tried  to  show  him  that  this  marriage  was  impossible." 

"  Ah,  I  love  him  for  this ! "  cried  Barbarina,  with  a 
genial  smile. 

Without  regarding  her,  Madame  Cocceji  went  on:  "  Even 
against  his  father,  he  has  dared  to  oppose  himself.  He 
defies  the  anger  of  his  king.  Oh,  signora,  in  the  anguish  of 
my  soul  I  turn  to  you ;  have  pity  with  me  and  with  my  most 
unhappy  son !  He  is  lost ;  he  will  go  down  to  the  grave  dis- 
honored, if  you  do  not  come  to  my  help!  If,  indeed,  you 
love  him,  your  love  will  teach  you  to  make  the  offering  of 
self-sacrifice,  and  I  will  bless  you,  and  forgive  you  all  the 
anguish  you  have  caused  me.  If  you  love  him  not,  you  will 
not  be  so  cruel  as  to  bury  the  happiness  and  honor  of  a  whole 
family  because  of  your  lofty  ambition  and  your  relentless 
will.  Hear  my  prayer — leave  this  city,  and  go  so  far  away 
that  my  son  can  never  follow,  never  reach  you  1  " 

"  Then  I  must  go  into  my  grave,"  said  Barbarina;  "there 


FREDERICK  THE    GREAT  AND  BIS  FRIENDS.   439 

is  no  other  refuge  to  which,  if  he  truly  loves,  he  cannot  fol- 
low me.  I,  dear  madame,  cannot,  like  yourself,  move  un- 
known and  unregarded  through  the  world.  My  fame  is  the 
herald  which  announces  my  presence  in  every  land,  and 
every  city  offers  me,  with  bended  knee,  the  keys  of  her  gates 
and  the  keys  of  her  heart.  I  cannot  hide  myself.  Xothing 
is  known  of  the  proud  and  noble  family  of  Cocceji  outside  of 
Prussia;  but  the  wide,  wide  world  knows  of  the  Barbarina, 
and  the  laurel-wreaths  with  which  I  have  been  crowned  in 
every  land  have  never  been  desecrated  by  an  unworthy  act 
or  an  impure  thought.  There  is  nothing  in  my  life  of  which 
I  repent,  nothing  for  which  I  blush  or  am  ashamed!  And 
yet  you  have  dared  to  reproach  me — you  have  had  the  audac- 
ity to  seek  to  humiliate  me  in  my  own  house." 

"  You  forget  with  whom  you  have  the  honor  to  speak." 

"  You,  madame,  were  the  first  to  lorget  yourself ;  I  follow 
your  example.  I  suppose  Madame  Cocceji  knows  and  does 
ever  that  which  is  great  and  right.  I  said  you  had  vilified 
me  in  my  own  house,  and  yet  you  ask  of  me  an  act  of  magna- 
nimity I     Why  should  I  relinquish  your  son's  love  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  Because  there  remains  even  yet,  perhaps,  a 
fipark  of  honorable  feeling  in  your  bosom.  Because  you 
know  that  my  family  will  never  receive  you,  but  will  curse 
and  abhor  you,  if  you  dare  to  entice  my  son  into  a  marriage. 
Because  you  know  that  the  Prussian  nobles,  the  king  himself, 
are  on  my  side.  The  king,  signora,  no  longer  favors  you; 
the  king  has  promised  us  his  assistance.  The  king  will  use 
every  means  of  grace  and  power  to  prevent  a  marriage,  which 
he  himself  has  written  to  me  will  cover  my  son  with  dis- 
honor ! "  * 

"  That  is  false !  "  cried  Barbarina. 

"  It  is  true !  and  it  is  true  that  the  king,  in  order  to  pro- 
tect the  house  of  Cocceji  from  this  shame,  has  given  my  hus- 
band authority  to  arrest  my  son  and  cast  him  into  prison, 
provided  my  prayers  and  tears  and  menaces  should  be  of  no 
avail!  If  we  fail,  we  will  make  use  of  this  authority,  and 
give  him  over  to  General  Hake.t  Think  well  what  you  do- 
do not  drive  us  to  this  extremity.  I  say  there  is  a  point 
at  which  even  a  mother's  love  will  fail,  and  the  head  of  our 
*  Schneider,  "  History  of  the  Opera  in  Berlin."  +  Ibid. 


440  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI:  OR, 

house  will  act  witli  all  the  sternness  which  the  law  and  the 
king  permit.  Go,  then,  Signora  Barbarina — bow  your  proud 
head — leave  Berlin.  Return  to  your  own  land.  I  repeat 
to  you,  do  not  drive  us  to  extremity !  " 

Barbarina  listened  to  this  with  cool  and  mocking  com- 
posure. Not  a  muscle  of  her  face  moved — she  was  indeed 
striking  in  her  majesty  and  her  beauty.  Her  imposing 
bearing,  her  pallid  at  clear  complexion,  her  crimson,  tightly- 
compressed  lips,  her  great,  fierj  eyes,  which  spoke  the  scorn 
and  contempt  her  proud  lips  disdained  to  utter,  made  a  pic- 
ture never  to  be  forgotten. 

"  Madame,"  said  she,  slowly,  emphasizing  every  word, 
"you  have,  indeed,  driven  me  to  extremity.  It  was  not  my 
intention  to  marry  your  son.  But  your  conduct  has  now 
made  that  a  point  of  honor.  Now,  madame,  I  will  graciously 
yield  to  the  passionate  entreaties  of  your  son,  and  I  will  wed 
him." 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  will  force  my  husband  to  make  use 
of  the  power  the  king  has  given  him?  " 

Barbarina  shrugged  her  shoulders  contemptuously.  "  Ar- 
rest your  son,  and  cast  him  into  prison,  you  will  thereby  add 
a  new  celebrity  to  your  name,  and  quench  the  last  spark  of 
piety  and  obedience  in  his  heart.  Love  has  wings,  and  will 
follow  him  everywhere,  and  will  waft  him  to  the  altar,  where 
he  will  wed  Barbarina.  Neither  your  curse,  nor  your  arrest, 
nor  the  will  of  the  king,  will  now  protect  him.  Before  six 
months  are  over,  will  Barbarina  the  dancer  be  the  wife  of 
Cocceji." 

"  Never,  never  shall  that  be ! "  cried  Madame  Cocceji, 
trembling  with  rage. 

"  That  will  be !  "  said  Barbarina,  smiling  sadly,  and  bend- 
ing low.  "  And  now,  madame,  I  think  you  have  attained 
the  object  of  your  visit,  and  we  have  nothing  more  to  say  to 
each  other.  It  only  remains  for  me  to  commend  myself  to 
your  grace  and  courtesy,  and  to  thank  you  for  the  honor  of 
your  visit.  Allow  me  to  call  my  servant,  to  conduct  you  to 
your  carriage." 

She  rang  and  commanded  the  servant  to  open  the  fold- 
ing doors,  and  carry  the  large  muflF  of  the  countess  to  the 
carriage.    Madame  Cocceji  was  pale  with  rage.     She  wished 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    44I 

to  remain  incognito,  and  now  her  name  had  been  called  be- 
fore the  servant.  All  Berlin  would  know  before  night  that 
she  had  visited  Barbarina ! 

"  Give  me  my  muff,"  she  said  impatiently  to  the  serv- 
ant ;  "  it  is  not  necessary  you  should  carry  it.  I  came  on 
foot." 

"  On  foot  ?  "  said  Barbarina,  laughing  merrily.  "  Truly, 
you  wished  to  remain  incognito,  and  you  would  not  leave 
your  equipage  with  its  coat  of  arms,  standing  before  my 
door!  I  thank  you  once  more  for  the  honor  of  your  visit, 
and  commend  myself  to  you  with  the  glad  wish  that  we  may 
meet  again." 

"  N^ever  more !  "  said  Madame  Cocceji,  casting  a  wither- 
ing look  upon  the  gay  dancer,  and  hastening  from  the  room. 


CHAPTEK   VIII. 

VOLTAIRE. 

Voltaire  was  now  a  continuous  guest  of  King  Frederick. 
The  latter  had  written  a  letter  to  Louis  the  Fifteenth,  and 
begged  him  to  relinquish  his  subject  and  historian,  and  this 
request  was  supposed  to  be  acceded  to.  Besides  this,  the 
king,  who  was  ever  thoughtful  of  the  happiness  and  comfort 
of  his  friends,  had  proposed  to  Madame  Denis,  Voltaire's 
beloved  niece,  to  follow  her  uncle  to  Berlin,  dwell  in  the 
royal  castle  at  Potsdam,  and  accept  from  him  an  annuity 
of  four  thousand  francs. 

Voltaire  himself  besought  her  to  come.  He  wrote  to  her 
that,  as  she  had  lived  contentedly  with  her  husband  in  Lan- 
dau, she  could  surely  be  happy  in  Berlin  and  Potsdam.  Ber- 
lin was  certainly  a  much  more  beautiful  city  than  Landau, 
and  at  Potsdam  they  could  lead  an  agreeable  and  uncere- 
monious life.  "  In  Potsdam  there  are  no  tumultuous  feasts. 
My  soul  rests,  dreams,  and  works.  I  am  content  to  find 
myself  with  a  king  who  has  neither  a  court  nor  a  ministry. 
Truly,  Potsdam  is  infested  by  many  whiskered  grenadiers. 


442  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

but,  thank  Heaven,  I  see  little  of  them.  I  work  peacefully 
in  my  room,  while  the  drums  beat  without.  I  have  with- 
drawn from  the  dinners  of  the  king;  there  were  too  many 
princes  and  generals  there.  I  could  not  accustom  myself  to 
be  always  vis-d-vis  with  a  king  and  en  ceremonie.  But  I  sup 
with  him — the  suppers  are  shorter,  gayer,  and  healthier. 
I  would  die  with  indigestion  in  three  months  if  I  dined 
every  day  in  public  with  a  king."  * 

Madame  Denis,  however,  seemed  to  doubt  the  happy  life 
of  Berlin  and  Potsdam.  She  wrote,  declining  the  proposi- 
tion, and  expressing  her  fears  that  Voltaire  would  himself 
soon  repent  that  ho  had  left  beautiful,  glittering  Paris,  the 
capital  of  luxury  and  good  taste,  and  taken  refuge  in  a  bar- 
baric land,  to  be  the  slave  of  a  king,  while,  in  Paris,  he  had 
been  the  king  of  poetry. 

Voltaire  had  the  audacity  to  bring  this  letter  to  the  king 
— ^perhaps  to  wound  him,  perhaps  to  draw  from  him  further 
promises  and  assurances. 

Frederick  read  the  letter ;  his  brow  did  not  become  cloud- 
ed, and  the  friendly  smile  did  not  vanish  from  his  lips. 
When  he  had  read  it  to  the  end,  he  returned  it,  and  his  eyes 
met  the  distrustful,  lowering  glance  of  Voltaire  with  an  ex- 
pression of  such  goodness  and  candor  that  the  latter  cast  his 
eyes  ashamed  to  the  ground. 

~  "  If  I  were  Madame  Denis,"  said  Frederick,  "  I  would 
think  as  she  does ;  but,  being  myself,  I  view  these  things  dif- 
ferently. I  would  be  in  despair  if  1  had  occasioned  the  un- 
happiness  of  a  friend;  and  it  -v^ill  not  be  possible  for  me  to 
allow  trouble  or  sorrow  to  fall  upon  a  man  whom  I  esteem, 
whom  I  love,  and  who  has  sacrificed  for  me  hife  fatherland  and 
all  that  men  hold  most  dear.  If  I  could  believe  that  your  resi- 
dence here  could  be  to  your  disadvantage,  I  %vould  be  the  first 
to  counsel  you  to  give  it  up.  I  know  I  wovild  think  more  of 
your  happijiess  than  I  would  of  the  joy  of  having  you  with 
me.  We  are  philosophers.  Wliat  is  more  natural,  more 
simple,  than  that  two  philosophers,  who  seem  made  for  each 
other — who  have  the  same  studies,  the  same  tastes,  the  same 
mode  of  thinking — should  grant  themselves  the  satisfaction 
of  living  together  ?  I  honor  you  as  my  teacher  of  eloquence 
•  (Euvret  Completes,  p.  860 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    443 

and  poetry ;  I  love  you  as  a  virtuous  and  sympathetic  friend. 
What  sort  of  bondage,  what  misfortunes,  what  changes  have 
you  to  fear  in  a  realm  Avhere  you  are  as  highly  honored  as  in 
your  fatherland — where  you  have  a  powerful  friend  who  ad- 
vances to  meet  you  with  a  thankful  heart?  I  am  not  so 
prejudiced  and  foolish  as  to  consider  Berlin  as  handsome  as 
Paris.  If  good  taste  has  found  a  home  in  the  world,  I  confess 
it  is  in  Paris.  But  you,  Voltaire,  will  you  not  inaugurate 
good  taste  wherever  you  are?  We  have  organs  sufficiently 
developed  to  applaud  you;  and,  as  to  love,  we  will  not  allow 
any  other  land  superiority  in  that  respect.  I  yielded  to  the 
friendship  which  hound  you  to  the  Marquise  du  Chatelet, 
but  I  was,  next  to  her,  your  oldest  friend.  How,  when  you 
have  sought  an  asylum  in  my  house,  can  it  ever  be  thought 
it  will  become  your  prison?  How,  being  your  friend,  can  I 
ever  become  your  tyrant?  I  do  not  understand  this.  I  am 
convinced  that,  as  long  as  I  live,  you  will  be  happy  here. 
You  will  be  honored  as  the  father  of  literature,  and  you  will 
ever  find  in  me  that  assistance  and  sympathy  which  a  man 
of  your  worth  has  a  right  to  demand  of  all  who  honor  and 
appreciate  him."  * 

"  Alas !  your  majesty  says  that  you  honor  me,  but  you  no 
longer  say  that  you  love  me,"  cried  Voltaire,  who  had  lis- 
tened to  this  eloquent  and  heart-felt  speech  of  the  king  with 
eager  impatience  and  lowering  frowns.  "  Yes,  yes,  I  feel  it ; 
I  know  it  too  well !  Your  majesty  has  already  limited  me  to 
your  consideration,  your  regard;  but  your  love,  your  friend- 
ship, these  are  costly  treasures  from  which  I  have  been  dis- 
inherited. But  I  know  these  hypocritical  legacy-hunters, 
who  have  robbed  me  of  that  most  beautiful  portion  of  my  in- 
heritance. I  know  these  poor,  beggarly  cousins,  these  D'Ar- 
gens,  these  Algarottis,  these  La  Mettries,  this  vainglorious 
peacock  Maupertius.     I — " 

"  Voltaire,"  said  the  king,  interrupting  him,  "  you  for- 
get that  you  speak  of  my  friends,  and  I  do  not  allow  any  one 
to  speak  evil  of  them.  I  will  never  be  partial,  never  unjust! 
My  heart  is  capable  of  valuing  and  treasuring  all  my  friends, 
but  my  friends  must  aim  to  deserve  it;  and  if  I  give  them 
my  heart,  I  expect  one  in  return." 

*  The  king's  own  words. — (Euvres  Posthumes. 


444  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI:  OR, 

"  Friendship  is  a  bill  of  exchange,  by  which  you  give  just 
so  much  as  you  are  entitled  to  demand  in  return." 

"  Give  me,  then,  your  whole  heart,  Voltaire,  and  I  will 
restore  mine  to  you !  But  I  fear  you  have  no  longer  a  heart ; 
Nature  gave  you  but  a  small  dose  of  this  fleeting  essence 
called  love.  She  had  much  to  do  with  your  brain,  and  worked 
at  that  so  long  that  no  time  remained  to  make  the  heart  per- 
fect; just  as  she  was  about  to  pour  a  few  drops  of  this 
wonderful  love-essence  into  your  heart,  the  cock  crew  three 
times  for  your  birth,  and  betrayed  you  into  the  world.  You 
have  long  since  used  up  the  poor  pair  of  drops  which  fell 
into  your  heart.  Your  brain  was  armed  for  centuries,  with 
power  to  work,  to  be  useful,  to  rejoice  the  souls  of  others, 
but  I  fear  your  heart  was  exhausted  in  your  youthful  years." 

"Ah,  I  wish  your  majesty  were  right!"  cried  Voltaire; 
"  I  should  not  then  feel  the  anguish  which  now  martyrs  me, 
the  torture  of  being  misunderstood  by  the  most  amiable, 
the  most  intellectual,  the  most  exalted  of  monarchs.  Oh, 
sire,  sire !  I  have  a  heart,  and  it  bleeds  because  you  doubt  of 
its  existence ! " 

"  I  would  believe  you  if  you  were  a  little  less  pathetic," 
said  the  king.  "  You  not  only  assert,  but  you  declaim. 
There  is  too  little  of  nature  and  truth  in  your  tone ;  you  re- 
mind me  a  little  of  the  stilted  French  tragedies,  in  which  de- 
sign and  premeditation  obscure  all  true  passion;  in  which 
love  is  only  a  phrase,  that  no  one  believes  in,  dressed  up  with 
the  tawdry  gilding  of  sentiment  and  pathos." 

"  Your  majesty  will  crush  me  with  your  scorn  and  mock- 
ery I "  cried  Voltaire,  whose  eyes  now  flamed  with  anger. 
"  You  wish  to  make  me  feel  how  powerless,  how  pitiful  I  am. 
Where  shall  I  find  the  strength  to  strive  with  you?  I  have 
won  no  battles.  I  have  no  hundred  thousand  men  to  oppose 
to  you,  and  no  courts-martial  to  condemn  those  who  sin 
against  me !  " 

"  It  is  true  you  have  not  a  hundred  thousand  soldiers," 
said  the  king,  "  but  you  have  four-and-twenty,  and  with  these 
four-and-twenty  soldiers  you  have  conquered  the  whole 
realm  of  spirits ;  with  this  little  army  you  have  brought  the 
whole  of  educated  Europe  to  your  feet.  You  are,  there- 
fore, a  much  more  powerful  king  than  I  am.    I  have,  it  is 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    445 

true,  a  hundred  thousand  men,  but  I  dare  not  say  that  they 
will  not  run  when  it  comes  to  the  first  battle.  You,  Voltaire, 
have  your  four-and-twenty  soldiers  of  the  alphabet,  and  so 
well  have  you  exercised  them,  that  you  must  win  every  battle, 
even  if  all  the  kings  of  the  earth  were  allied  against  you. 
Let  us  make  peace,  then,  my  '  invincible ! '  do  not  turn  this 
terrible  army  of  the  four-and-twenty,  with  their  deadly 
weapons,  against  me,  but  graciously  allow  me  to  seize  upon 
the  hem  of  your  purple  robe,  to  sun  myself  in  your  dazzling 
rays,  to  be  your  humble  scholar,  and  from  you  and  your  army 
of  heroes  to  learn  the  secret  art  of  winning  battles  with  in- 
visible troops !  " 

"  Your  majesty  makes  me  feel  more  and  more  how  poor 
I  am;  even  my  four-and-twenty,  of  whom  you  speak,  have 
gone  over  to  you,  and  you  understand,  as  well  as  I  do,  how  to 
exercise  them." 

"  No,  no !  "  said  Frederick,  changing  suddenly  his  jesting 
tone  for  one  of  grave  earnestness.  "  No,  I  will  learn  of  you. 
I  am  not  satisfied  to  be  a  poor-souled  dilettante  in  poetry, 
though  assured  I  can  never  be  a  Virgil  or  a  Voltaire.  I 
know  that  the  study  of  poetry  demands  the  life,  the  undivid- 
ed heart  and  mind.  I  am  but  a  poor  galley-slave,  chained  to 
the  ship  of  state;  or,  if  you  will,  a  pilot,  who  does  not  dare 
to  leave  the  rudder,  or  even  to  sleep,  lest  the  fate  of  the 
unhappy  Palinurus  might  overtake  him.  The  Muses  de- 
mand solitude  and  rest  for  the  soul,  and  that  I  can  never 
consecrate  to  them.  Often,  when  I  have  written  three 
verses,  I  am  interrupted,  my  muse  is  chilled,  and  my  spirit 
cannot  rise  again  into  the  heights  of  inspiration.  I  know 
there  are  privileged  souls,  who  can  make  verses  everywhere 
— in  the  tumult  of  court  life,  in  the  loneliness  of  Cirey,  in 
the  prisons  of  the  Bastile,  and  in  the  stage-coach.  My  poor 
soul  does  not  enjoy  this  freedom.  It  resembles  an  anana, 
which  bears  fruit  only  in  the  green-house,  but  fades  and 
withers  in  the  fresh  air."  * 

"  Ah !  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  caught  the  Solomon  of 

the  North  in  an  untruth,"  cried  Voltaire,  eagerly.     "  Your 

soul  is  not  like  the  anana,  but  like  the  wondrous  southern 

tree  which  generously  bears  at  the  same  time  fruits  and 

*  The  king's  own  words. — (Euvres  Posthumes. 


446  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI:  OR, 

flowers;  which  inspires  and  sweetly  intoxicates  us  with  its 
fragrance,  and  at  the  same  time  strengthens  and  refreshes 
us  by  its  celestial  fruits.  You,  sire,  are  not  the  pupil  of 
Apollo,  you  are  Apollo  himself ! " 

The  king  smiled,  and,  raising  his  arms  to  heaven,  he  ex- 
claimed, with  the  mock  pathos  of  a  French  tragedian : 

"  0  Dieu !  qui  douez  les  poetes 
De  tant  de  Bublime  faveurs ; 
Ah,  rendez  vos  graces  parfaites, 
£t  qu'ils  Boient  un  peu  moins  menteurs." 

*  "  In  trying  to  punish  me  for  what  you  are  pleased  to  call 
my  falsehood,  your  majesty  proves  that  I  have  spoken  the 
truth,"  cried  Voltaire,  eagerly.  "  You  wish  to  show  me  that 
the  fruit  of  your  muse  ripens  slowly,  and  you  improvise  a 
charming  quatrain  that  Moliere  himself  would  be  proud  to 
have  composed." 

"  Bendez  vos  graces  parfaites, 

£t  qu'ils  soient  un  peu  moins  menteurs !" 

repeated  Frederick,  nodding  merrily  to  Voltaire.  "Look 
you,  friend,  I  am  perhaps  that  mortal  who  incommodes  the 
gods  least  with  prayers  and  petitions.  My  first  prayer  to- 
day was  for  you;  show,  therefore,  a  little  gratitude,  and 
prove  to  me  that  the  gods  hear  the  earnest  prayers  of  the 
faithful.  Be  less  of  a  flatterer,  and  speak  the  simple  truth. 
I  desire  now  to  look  over  with  you  my  compositions  of  the 
last  few  days.  I  wish  you,  however,  always  to  remember 
that  when  you  write,  you  do  so  to  add  to  the  fame  of  your 
nation  and  to  the  honor  of  your  fatherland.  For  myself,  I 
scribble  for  my  amusement;  and  I  could  easily  be  pardoned, 
if  I  were  wise  enough  to  burn  my  work  as  soon  as  it  was 
finished.*  When  a  man  approaches  his  fortieth  year  and 
makes  bad  verses  as  I  do,  one  might  say,  with  MoliSre's 
*  Misanthrope ' — 

'  8i  j'en  faisais  d'aussi  mechants, 
Je  me  garderais  bien  de  les  montrer  aux  gens.' " 

"Your  majesty  considers  yourself   already  too  old   to 
make  verses,  and  you  are  scarcely  thirty-eight:  am  I  not 
*  The  king's  own  words. — CEuvres  Posthumes. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    447 

then  a  fool,  worthy  of  condemnation,  for  daring  to  do  homage 
to  the  Muses  and  striving  to  make  verses — I,  the  gray-haired 
old  man  who  already  counts  fifty-six  ? " 

"  You  have  the  privilege  of  the  gods !  you  will  never 
grow  old;  and  the  Muses  and  Graces,  though  women,  must 
ever  remain  faithful  to  you — ^you  understand  how  to  lay 
new  chains  upon  them." 

"  No,  no,  sire !  I  am  too  old,"  sighed  Voltaire ;  "  an  old 
poet,  an  old  lover,  an  old  singer,  and  an  old  horse  are  alike 
useless  things — good  for  nothing.*  Well,  your  majesty  can 
make  me  a  little  younger  by  reading  me  some  of  your 
verses." 

Frederick  stepped  to  his  writing-desk,  and,  seating  him- 
self, nodded  to  Voltaire  to  be  seated  also. 

"You  must  know,"  said  the  king,  handing  Voltaire  a 
sheet  of  paper  covered  with  verses — "  you  must  know  that  I 
have  come  with  six  twin  brothers,  who  desire  in  the  name  of 
Apollo  to  be  baptized  in  the  waters  of  Hippocrene,  and  the 
*  Uenriade '  is  entreated  to  be  godfather." 

Voltaire  took  the  paper  and  read  the  verses  aloud.  The 
king  listened  attentively,  and  nodded  approvingly  over  Vol- 
taire's glowing  and  passionate  declamation. 

"  This  is  grand !  this  is  sublime ! "  cried  Voltaire. 
"  Your  majesty  is  a  French  writer,  who  lives  hy  accident  in 
Germany.     You  have  our  language  wholly  in  your  power." 

Frederick  raised  his  finger  threateningly.  "  Friend, 
friend,  shall  I  weary  the  gods  again  with  my  prayer  ? " 

"  Your  majesty,  then,  wishes  to  hear  the  whole  truth? " 

"  The  whole  truth !  " 

"  Then  you  must  allow  me,  sire,  to  read  the  verses  once* 
more.  I  read  them  the  first  time  as  an  amateur,  now  I  will 
read  them  as  a  critic." 

As  Voltaire  now  repeated  the  verses,  he  laid  a  sharp  ac- 
cent upon  every  word  and  every  imperfect  rhyme;  scanned 
every  line  with  stem  precision.  Sometimes  when  he  came 
to  a  false  Alexandrine,  he  gave  himself  the  appearance  of 
being  absolutely  unable  to  force  his  lips  to  utter  such  bar- 
barisms; and  then  his  eyes  glowed  with  malicious  fire,  and  a 
contemptuous  smile  played  about  his  mouth. 

*  Voltaire's  own  words, — (Euvres  Posthumes,  p.  864, 


448  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI:  OR, 

The  king's  brow  clouded.  "I  understand,"  said  he, 
"  the  poem  is  utterly  unworthy — good  for  nothing.  Let  us 
destroy  it." 

"  Not  so,  sire — the  poem  is  excellent,  and  it  requires  but 
a  few  day's  study  to  make  it  perfect.  On  the  Venus  di 
Medici  no  finger  must  be  too  long,  no  nail  badly  formed; 
and  what  are  such  statues,  with  which  we  deck  our  gardens, 
to  the  monuments  of  the  library  ?  We  must,  therefore,  make 
your  work  perfect.  There  is  infinite  grace  and  intellect  in 
this  little  poem.  Where  have  you  found  such  treasures, 
sire?  How  can  your  sandy  soil  yield  such  blossoms?  How 
can  such  charming  grace  and  profound  learning  be  com- 
bined ?  *  But  even  the  Graces  must  stand  upon  a  sure  foot- 
ing, and  here,  sire,  are  a  few  feet  which  are  too  long.  Truly, 
that  is  sometimes  unimportant,  but  the  work  of  a  distin- 
guished genius  should  be  perfect.  You  work  too  rashly,  sire 
— it  is  sometimes  more  easy  to  win  a  battle  than  to  make  a 
good  poem.  Your  majesty  loves  the  truth  so  well,  that  by 
speaking  the  truth  in  all  sincerity  I  shall  best  prove  to  you 
my  most  profound  reverence.  All  that  you  do  must  be 
perfectly  done ;  you  are  fully  endowed  with  the  ability  neces- 
sary. No  one  must  say  '  Ccesar  est  supra  grammaticum.' 
Caesar  wrote  as  he  fought,  and  was  in  both  victorious.  Fred- 
erick the  Great  plays  the  flute  like  Blavet,  why  should  he 
not  also  write  like  the  greatest  of  poets  ?t  But  your  maj- 
esty must  not  disdain  to  give  to  the  beautiful  sentiment,  the 
great  thought,  a  lovely  and  attractive  form." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right !  "  said  Frederick ;  "  I  fail  in  that, 
but  you  must  not  think  that  it  is  from  carelessness.  Those 
of  my  verses  which  you  have  least  criticised  are  exactly  those 
which  have  cost  me  the  least  effort.  When  the  sentiment 
and  the  rhyme  come  in  competition,  I  make  bad  verses,  and 
am  not  happy  in  my  corrections.  You  cannot  comprehend 
the  difficulties  I  have  to  overcome  in  making  a  few  tolerable 
verses.  A  happy  combination  by  nature,  an  irrepressible 
and  fruitful  intellect,  made  you  a  great  poet  without  any 
effort  of  your  own.  I  feel  and  acknowledge  the  inferiority 
of  my  talent.    I  swim  about  in  the  ocean  of  poetry  with  my 

*  Voltaire's  own  words.— CEuvres  Posthumes,  p.  829. 
t  Ibid.,  p.  823. 


S'llEDBRICK  THE  GREAT  AND  filS  FRIENDS.    449 

life-preserver  under  ray  arm.  I  do  not  write  as  well  as  I 
think.  My  ideas  are  stronger  than  my  expressions;  and  in 
this  embarrassment,  I  am  often  content  if  my  verses  are  as 
little  indifferent  as  possible,  and  do  not  expect  them  to  be 
good."* 

"It  is  entirely  in  your  majesty's  power  to  make  them 
perfect.  With  you,  sire,  it  is  as  with  the  gods — '  I  will ! ' 
and  it  is  done.  If  your  majesty  will  condescend  to  adorn  the 
Graces  and  sylphs,  the  sages  and  scholars,  who  stumble  about 
in  this  sublime  poem  with  somewhat  rugged  feet,  with  artis- 
tic limbs,  they  will  flutter  about  like  graceful  genii,  and  step 
with  majesty  like  the  three  kings  of  the  East.  Now  let  us 
try — we  will  write  this  poem  again." 

He  made  a  long  mark  with  a  pen  over  the  manuscript  of 
the  king,  took  a  new  sheet  of  paper,  and  commenced  to  write 
the  first  lines.  He  criticised  every  word  with  bitter  humor, 
with  flashing  wit,  with  mocking  irony.  Inexorable  in  his 
censure,  indifferent  in  his  praise,  his  tongue  seemed  to  be 
armed  with  arrows,  every  one  of  which  was  intended  to 
strike  and  wound. 

The  face  of  Frederick  remained  calm  and  clear.  He  did 
not  feel  that  he  was  a  mighty  king  and  ruler,  injured  by  the 
fault-finding  of  a  common  man.  He  was  the  pupil,  with  his 
accomplished  teacher;  and  as  he  really  wished  to  learn,  he 
was  indifferent  as  to  the  mode  by  which  his  stem  master 
would  instruct  him. 

After  this  they  read  together  a  chapter  from  the  king's 
"  Histoire  de  Mon  Temps."  A  second  edition  was  about  to 
appear,  and  Voltaire  had  undertaken  to  correct  it.  He 
brought  his  copy  with  him,  in  order  to  give  Frederick  an  ac- 
count of  his  corrections. 

"  This  book  will  be  a  masterwork,  if  your  majesty  w:ill 
only  take  the  pains  to  correct  it  properly?  But  has  a  king 
the  time  and  patience? — a  king  who  governs  his  whole  king- 
dom alone?  Yes,  it  is  this  thought  which  confounds  me! 
I  cannot  recover  from  my  astonishment;  it  is  this  which 
makes  me  so  stem  in  my  judgment  of  your  writings.  I  con- 
sider it  a  holy  duty." 

"  And  I  am  glad  you  are  harsh  and  independent,"  said 
*  The  king's  own  words,  p.  346. 


450  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

tlie  king.  "  I  learn  more  from  ten  stern  and  critical  words, 
than  from  a  lengthy  speech  full  of  praise  and  acknowledg- 
ment! But  tell  me,  now,  what  means  this  red  mark,  with 
which  you  have  covered  one  whole  side  of  my  manuscript  ? " 

"  Sire,  this  red  mark  asks  for  consideration  for  your 
grandfather.  King  Frederick  the  First ;  you  have  been  harsh 
and  cruel  with  him !  " 

"  I  dared  not  be  otherwise,  imless  I  would  earn  for  myself 
the  charge  of  partiality,"  said  the  king.  "It  shall  not  be 
said  that  I  closed  my  eyes  to  his  foolishness  and  absurdity 
because  he  was  my  grandfather*  Frederick  the  First  was  a 
vain  and  pompous  fool ;  this  is  the  truth  I  " 

"  And  yet  I  entreat  your  grace  for  him,  sire.  I  love  this 
king  because  of  his  royal  pomp,  and  the  beautiful  monument 
which  he  left  behind  him," 

"  Well,  that  was  vanity,  that  posterity  might  speak  of 
him.  From  vanity  he  protected  the  arts;  from  vanity  and 
foolish  pride  he  placed  the  crown  upon  his  head.  His  wife, 
the  great  Sophia  Charlotte,  was  right  when  she  said  of  him 
on  her  death-bed :  *  The  king  will  not  have  time  to  mourn  for 
me ;  the  interest  he  will  take  in  solemnizing  my  funeral  with 
pomp  and  regal  splendor  will  dissipate  his  grief;  and  if 
nothing  is  wanting,  nothing  fails  in  the  august  and  beautiful 
ceremony,  he  will  be  entirely  comforted.'  *  He  was  only 
great  in  little  things,  and  therefore  when  Sophia  Charlotte 
received  from  her  friend  Leibnitz  his  memoir  '  On  the  Power 
of  Small  Things,'  she  said,  smiling :  *  Leibnitz  will  teach 
me  to  know  small  things;  has  he  forgotten  that  I  am  the 
wife  of  Frederick  the  First,  or  does  he  think  that  I  do  not 
know  my  husband  ? '  " 

"  Well,  I  pray  for  grace  for  the  husband  on  his  wife's  ac- 
count. Sophia  Charlotte  was  an  exalted  and  genial  woman; 
you  should  forgive  her  husband  all  other  things,  because  he 
was  wise  enough  to  make  her  his  wife  and  your  grand- 
mother! And  if  your  majesty  reproaches  him  for  the  vanity 
of  making  himself  king,  that  is  a  vanity  from  which  his  de- 
scendants have  obtained  some  right  solid  advantages." 

"  The  title  appears  to  me  not  in  the  least  disagreeable ! 
The  title  is  beautiful,  when  given  by  a  free  people,  or  earned 
*  Thiebault  t  Ibid. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    461 

by  a  prince.     Frederick  the  First^ad  done  nothing  to  stamp 
him  a  king,  and  that  condemns  him." 

"  So  let  it  be,"  said  Voltaire,  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
"he  is  your  grandfather,  not  mine.  Do  with  him  as  you 
think  best,  sire ;  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,  and  will  content 
myself  with  sisftening  a  few  phrases."  * 

When  he  saw  that  Frederick's  brow  clouded  at  these 
words,  he  said,  with  a  sly  laugh :  "  Look  you,  how  the  office , 
of  a  teacher,  which  your  majesty  forced  upon  me,  makes 
me  insolent  and  haughty!  I,  who  would  do  well  to  correct 
my  own  works,  undertake  to  improve  the  writings  of  a  king. 
I  remind  myself  of  the  Abbot  von  Milliers,  who  has  written 
a  book  called  *  Reflections  on  the  Faults  of  Others.'  On  one 
occasion  he  went  to  hear  a  sermon  of  a  Capuchin.  The  monk 
addressed  his  audience,  in  a  nasal  voice,  in  the  following 
manner :  *  My  dear  brothers  in  the  Lord,  I  had  intended  to- 
day to  discourse  upon  hell,  but  at  the  door  of  the  church  I 
have  read  a  bill  posted  up,  "Reflections  on  the  Faults  of 
Others."  "  Ha !  my  friend,"  thought  I,  "  why  have  you  not 
rather  made  reflections  over  your  own  faults  ?  "  I  will  there- 
fore speak  to  you  of  the  pride  and  arrogance  of  men ! '  " 

"'Well,  make  such  reflections  always  when  occupied  with 
tJie  History  of  Louis  the  Fifteenth,"  said  the  king,  laughing ; 
"  only,  I  beseech  you,  when  you  are  with  me,  not  to  be  con- 
verted by  the  pious  Capuchin,  but  make  your  reflections  on 
the  faults  of  others  ojily." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  DAY  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  VOLTAIRE. 

Voltaire  enjoyed  the  rare  privilege  of  speaking  the 
truth  to  the  king,  and  he  made  a  cruel  and  bitter  use  of  his 
opportunities  in  this  respect.  He  was  jealous  and  envious 
of  the  king's  fame  and  greatness,  and  sought  to  revenge  him- 

*  This  conversation  of  the  king  and  Voltaire  is  historic    Voltaire  tella  it 
in  a  letter  to  Madame  Denis. 
29 


452  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

self  by  continual  fault-fintiing  and  criticism.  lie  sought  to 
mortify  the  great  Frederick,  who  was  admired  and  wondered 
at  by  all  the  Avorld;  to  make  him  feel  and  confess  that  he 
could  never  equal  the  renowned  writer  Voltaire. 

Frederick  felt  and  acknowledged  this  frankly  and  with- 
out shame,  but  with  that  smiling  composure  and  great  self- 
consciousness  which  is  ever  ready  to  do  justice  to  others, 
and  demands  at  the  same  time  a  just  recognition  of  its  own 
claims.  Voltaire  might  exalt  himself  to  the  clouds,  he 
could  not  depreciate  the  king.  He  often  made  him  angry, 
however,  and  this  gratified  the  malice  of  the  great  French 
author. 

The  other  friends  of  Frederick  looked  upon  this  conduct 
of  Voltaire  with  regret;  and  the  Marquis  d'Argens,  who  was 
of  a  fine  and  gentle  nature,  soon  saw  the  daily  discontent  of 
the  king,  and  the  wicked  joy  of  Voltaire. 

"  My  friend,"  said  he,  "  the  king  wrote  a  poem  yesterday, 
which  he  read  aloud  to  me  this  morning.  He  declares  that 
there  is  one  bad  rhyme  in  his  poem,  and  that  it  tortures  him. 
I  tried  in  vain  to  reassure  him.  I  know  that  the  rhyme  is 
incorrect,  but  you  will  provoke  him  beyond  measure  if  you 
tell  him  so.  He  has  tried  in  vain  to  correct  it,  without  im- 
pairing the  sense  of  the  passage.  I  have,  therefore,  with- 
held all  criticism,  and  read  to  him  some  verses  from  La 
Fontaine,  where  the  same  fault  is  to  be  found.  I  have 
wished  to  convince  him  that  the  poem  is  worthy  of  praise, 
although  not  exactly  conformed  to  rule.  I  beg  of  you,  Vol- 
taire, to  follow  my  example." 

"  And  why  should  I  do  that  ?  "  said  Voltaire,  in  his  most 
snarling  tone. 

"  Because,  with  your  severe  and  continual  criticisms  you 
will  disgust  the  king,  and  turn  him  aside  from  his  favorite 
pursuit.  I  think  it  important  to  poetry  and  the  fine  arts 
that  the  great  and  powerful  sovereign  of  Prussia  should  love 
and  cherish  them;  should  exalt  those  who  cultivate  them, 
and,  indeed,  rank  himself  amongst  them.  What  difference 
does  it  make,  Voltaire,  if  a  bad  rhyme  is  to  be  found  in  the 
poetry  of  the  philosopher  of  Sans-Souci  ?  "  * 

"  The  king  wishes  to  learn  of  me  how  to  make  good 

*  Thi^bault,  vol.  v.,  p.  337. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    453 

poetry,  and  my  love  to  him  is  not  of  that  treasonable,  woman- 
ly, and  cowardly  sort  which  shrinks  from  blaming  him  be- 
cause it  fears  to  wound  his  self-love.  The  king  has  read  his 
poem  to  you,  and  it  is  your  province  to  wonder  at  and  praise 
your  friend.  He  will  read  it  to  me  as  '  Pedagogo  de  sua 
Maestd.'  I  will  be  true  and  just,  where  you  have  dared  to 
flatter  him." 

Never  was  Voltaire  more  severe  in  his  criticism,  more 
cutting  in  his  satire,  than  to-day.  His  eyes  sparkled  with 
malicious  joy,  and  a  wicked  smile  played  still  upon  his  lip 
as  he  left  the  king  and  returned  to  his  own  apartment. 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  seating  himself  at  his  writing-table,  with 
a  loud  laugh,  "  I  shall  write  well  to-day,  for  I  have  had  a  les- 
son. Frederick  does  not  know  how  far  he  is  my  benefactor. 
In  correcting  him,  I  correct  myself;  and  in  directing  his 
studies,  I  gain  strength  and  judgment  for  my  own  works.* 
I  will  now  write  a  chapter  in  my  History  of  Louis  XIV.  My 
style  will  be  good.  The  chapter  which  I  have  read  this 
morning,  in  Frederick's  '  Histoire  de  Mon  Temps,'  has 
taught  me  what  faults  to  avoid.  Yes,  I  will  write  of  Louis 
XIV.  Truly  I  owe  him  some  compensation.  King  Fred- 
erick has  had  the  naivete  to  compare  his  great  grandfather, 
the  so-called  great  Prince-Elector,  to  the  great  Louis.  I 
was  amiable  enough  to  pardon  him  for  this  little  compliment 
to  his  ancestors,  and  not  to  strike  it  from  his  *  Histoire.' 
And,  indeed,  why  should  I  have  done  that?  The  world  will 
not  be  so  foolish  as  to  charge  this  amusing  weakness  to  me ! 
After  all,  the  king  writes  but  for  himself,  and  a  few  false, 
flattering  friends;  he  can,  therefore,  say  what  he  will.  I, 
however,  I  write  for  France — for  the  world!  But  I  fear, 
alas,  that  fools  will  condemn  me,  because  I  have  sought  to 
write  as  a  wise  man."  f 

Voltaire  commenced  to  write,  but  he  was  soon  interrupted 
by  his  servant,  Tripot,  who  announced  that  the  Jew  Hirsch, 
for  whom  Voltaire  had  sent,  was  at  the  door.  Voltaire  rose 
hastily,  and  called  him  to  enter. 

"  I  have  business  with  you,  my  friend,"  said  he  to  the  Jew. 
"  Close  the  door,  Tripot,  and  see  that  we  are  not  disturbed." 

Voltaire  hastened  with  youthful  agility  through  the  sa- 

*  Voltaire's  own  words. — (Euvres,  p.  363.  *  (Euvres,  p.  341. 


464  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

loon,  and  beckoned  to  the  Jew  to  follow  him  into  his  bed- 
room. 

"First  of  all,  friend,  we  will  make  a  small  mercantile 
operation."  So  saying,  he  opened  the  door  of  a  large  corn- 
mode.  "  See,  here  are  twelve  pounds  of  the  purest  wax- 
lights.  I  am  a  poor  man,  with  weak  eyes.  I  have  no  use  for 
these  lights ;  I  can  never  hope  to  profit  by  them.  Here,  also, 
are  several  poimds  of  sugar  and  coffee,  the  savings  of  the 
last  two  months.  You  will  buy  all  this  of  me ;  we  will  agree 
upon  a  fixed  price,  and  the  last  day  of  every  month  you  will 
come  for  the  same  purpose.     Name  your  price,  sir." 

Hirsch  named  his  price ;  but  it  seemed  that  the  great  poet 
understood  how  to  bargain  better  than  the  Jew.  He  knew 
exactly  the  worth  of  the  sugar  and  the  coffee,  he  spoke  so 
eloquently  of  the  beauty  and  purity  of  the  thick  white  wax- 
lights,  that  the  Hebrew  increased  his  offer. 

"  And  now  to  more  important  business,"  said  Voltaire. 
"  You  are  going  to  Dresden — you  will  there  execute  a  com- 
mission for  me.  I  wish  to  invest  eighteen  thousand  thalers 
in  Saxon  bonds.  They  can  now  be  purchased  at  thirty-five, 
and  will  be  redeemed  at  a  hundred." 

"  But  your  excellency  knows  that  the  king  has  forbidden 
his  subjects  to  buy  these  bonds.  He  demanded  and  obtained 
for  his  subjects  a  pledge  that  they  should  be  paid  at  par 
for  the  bonds  they  now  hold,  while  the  subjects  of  the  King 
of  Saxony  receive  only  their  present  value.  The  king  prom- 
ised, however,  that  the  Prussians  should  make  no  further  in- 
vestments in  these  bonds.  You  see,  then,  that  it  is  impos- 
sible for  me  to  fulfil  this  commission." 

"  I  see  that  you  are  a  fool ! "  cried  Voltaire,  angrily. 
"  If  you  were  not  a  fool,  you  would  know  that  Voltaire,  the 
chamberlain  of  the  king,  would  not  undertake  a  business 
transaction  which  would  stain  his  reputation  or  cast  a  shadow 
on  his  name.  When  Voltaire  makes  this  investment,  you 
can  understand  that  he  is  authorized  to  do  so." 

"  That  being  the  case,"  said  Hirsch,  humbly,  "  I  am  en- 
tirely satisfied,  and  will  gladly  serve  your  excellency." 

"  If  you  fill  this  commission  handsomely  and  promptly, 
you  may  feel  assured  of  a  reward.  Are  you  ambitious? 
Would  you  not  like  a  title  ? " 


FEEDEEICK  THE  OREAT  AND  HIS  FEIENDS.    455 

* 

"  Certainly  I  am  ambitious.  I  should  be  tnily  happy  if  I 
could  obtain  the  title  of  '  royal  court  agent.'  " 

"  Well,  buy  these  bonds  for  me  in  Dresden  cheap,  and 
you  shall  have  this  coveted  title,"  said  the  noble  author  of 
the  "  Henriade/'  and  other  world-renowned  works. 

"  I  will  buy  them  at  thirty-five  thalers."  , 

"  And  you  will  invest  eighteen  thousand  thalers  at  this 
rate.  Our  contract  is  made;  now  we  will  count  the  gold. 
I  have  not  the  ready  money — I  will  give  you  drafts — come 
into  my  study. — There  are  three  drafts,"  said  he,  "  one  on 
Paris,  one  on  your  father,  and  one  on  the  Jew  Ephraim. 
Get  them  cashed,  good  Hirsch,  and  bring  me  my  Saxon 
bonds." 

"  In  eight  days,  your  excellency,  I  will  return  with  them, 
and  you  will  have  a  clear  profit  of  eleven  thousand  thalers.". 

Voltaire's  eyes  sparkled  with  joy.  "  Eleven  thousand 
thalers  1 "  said  he ;  "  for  a  poor  poet,  who  lives  by  his  wits 
and  his  pen,  that  is  a  considerable  sum." 

"  You  will  realize  that  sum,"  said  Hirsch,  with  the  sol- 
emn earnestness  of  a  Jew  when  he  has  made  a  good  trade. 

Hirsch  was  about  to  withdraw,  but  Voltaire  hastened 
after  him,  and  seizing  his  arm,  he  cried  out  threateningly: 
"  You  are  not  going  without  giving  me  your  note  ?  You  do 
not  think  that  I  am  such  a  fool  as  to  give  you  eighteen  thou- 
sand thalers,  and  have  nothing  to  prove  it  ? " 

"  You  excellency  has  my  word  of  honor,"  said  the  Jew, 
earnestly. 

Voltaire  laughed  aloud.  "  Your  word  1  the  honorable 
word  of  a  man  for  eighteen  thousand  thalers!  My  dear 
friend,  we  do  not  live  in  paradise,  but  in  a  so-called  Chris- 
tian city — your  worthy  forefathers  obtained  for  us  this  priv- 
ilege. Do  you  believe  that  I  will  trust  one  of  their  descend- 
ants? Who  will  go  my  security  that  you  will  not  nail  my 
innocence  and  my  confiding  heart  upon  the  cross,  and  slay 
them  if  I  should  be  unsuspicious  enough  to  trust  my  money 
with  you  in  this  simple  way  ?  " 

"I  will  give  you  ample  security,"  said  Hirsch,  taking  a 
morocco  case  from  his  pocket.  "  I  did  not  know  why  your 
excellency  sent  for  me.  I  thought  perhaps  you  wished  to 
buy  diamonds,  and  brought  some  along  with  me.    Look,  sirl 


456  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI:  OK, 

here  are  diamonds  worth  twenty-two  thousand  thalers!  1 
will  leave  them  with  you — I,  the  poor  Jew,  do  not  fear  that 
the  great  poet  Voltaire  will  deceive  and  betray  me." 

"  These  diamonds  are  beautiful,"  said  Voltaire — "  very 
beautiful,  and  perhaps  if  my  speculation  succeeds,  I  may 
buy  some  from  you.     Until  then,  I  will  take  care  of  them." 

Voltaire  was  about  to  lock  them  up,  but  he  paused  sud- 
denly, and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  calm  countenance  of  the 
Jew. 

"  How  do  I  know  that  these  are  real  diamonds  ? "  he 
cried;  and  as  Hirsch,  exasperated  by  this  base  suspicion, 
frowned  and  turned  pale,  he  exclaimed  fiercely :  "  The  dia- 
monds are  false !  I  know  it  by  j6ut  terror.  Oh,  oh,  you 
thought  that  a  poet  was  a  good,  credulous  creature  who  could 
be  easily  deceived.  Ah !  you  thought  I  had  heard  nothing  of 
those  famous  lapidaries  in  St.  Germain,  who  cut  diamonds 
from  glass,  and  cook  up  in  their  laboratories  the  rarest 
jewels !  Yes,  yes,  I  know  all  these  arts,  and  all  the  brewing 
of  St.  Germain  will  not  sufiice  to  deceive  me." 

"  These  diamonds  are  pure !  "  cried  Hirsch. 

"  We  will  have  them  tested  by  a  Christian  jeweller,"  said 
Voltaire. — "  Tripot !  Tripot !  run  quickly  to  the  jeweller 
Reclam — beg  him  to  come  to  me  for  a  few  moments." 

Tripot  soon  returned  with  Reclam.  The  diamonds 
were  pronounced  pure  and  of  the  first  water;  and  the  jewel- 
ler declared  they  were  fully  worth  twenty-two  thousand  tha- 
lers. Voltaire  was  now  fully  satisfied,  and,  when  once  more 
alone,  he  looked  long  and  rapturously  upon  these  glittering 
stones. 

"  What  woman  can  boast  of  such  dazzling  fire  in  her 
eyes  ? "  said  he,  laughing ;  "  what  woman  can  say  that  their 
color  is  worth  twenty-two  thousand  thalers  ?  It  is  true  they 
glisten  and  shimmer  in  all  lights  and  shades — that  is  their 
weakness  and  their  folly.  With  you,  beautiful  gems!  these 
changing  hues  are  a  virtue.  Oh,  to  think  that  with  this 
h  mdful  of  flashing  stones  I  could  buy  a  bag  of  ducats! 
How  dull  and  stupid  are  mankind — how  wise  is  God !  Sink- 
ing those  diamonds  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  was  a  good 
speculation.  They  are  truffles  to  tempt  the  snouts  of  men; 
and  they  root  after  them  as  zealously  as  the  swine  in  Peri- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS   FRIENDS.    457 

.gord  root  after  the  true  truffles.  Gold!  gold!  that  is  the 
magic  word  with  which  the  world  is  ruled.  I  will  have  gold — 
I  will  rule  the  world.  I  will  not  give  place  to  dukes  or  princes. 
I  will  have  my  seigneuries  and  my  castles;  my  servants  in 
rich  livery,  and  my  obedient  subjects.  I  will  be  a  grand 
seigneur.  Kings  and  princes  shall  visit  me  in  my  castle, 
and  wait  in  my  antechamber,  as  I  have  been  compelled  to 
wait  in  theirs.  I  will  be  rich  that  I  may  be  every  man's 
master,  even  master  of  the  fools.  I  will  enslave  the  wise  by 
my  intellect — I  will  reduce  the  foolish  to  bondage  with  gold. 
I  must  be  rich!  rich!  rich!  therefore  am  I  here;  therefore 
do  I  correct  the  poor  rhymes  of  the  king ;  therefore  do  I  live 
now  as  a  modest  poet,  and  add  copper  to  copper,  and  save  my 
pension  of  five  thousand  thalers,  and  sell  my  wax-lights  and 
my  coffee  to  the  Jew.  Let  the  world  call  me  a  miser.  When 
I  become  rich,  I  will  be  a  spendthrift ;  and  men  who  are  now 
envious  and  angry  at  my  fame  shall  burst  with  rage  at  my 
fortune.  Ah,  ah,  it  is  not  worth  the  cost  to  be  a  celebrated 
writer!  There  are  too  many  humiliations  connected  with 
this  doubtful  social  position.  It  gives  no  rank — it  is  a  pitiful 
thing  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  have  actual  standing,  and  is 
only  envied  by  those  who  are  unnoticed  and  unknown.  For 
my  own  part,  I  am  so  exhausted  by  the  discomforts  of  my 
position,  I  would  gladly  cast  it  from  me,  and  make  for  my- 
self what  the  canaille  call  a  good  thing — an  enormous  for- 
tune. I  will  scrape  together  all  the  gold  that  is  possible. 
I  will  give  for  gold  all  the  honor  and  freedom  and  fame 
which  come  to  me.  I  am  a  rich  gainer  in  all  these  things 
by  my  residence  with  King  Frederick.  He  has  this  virtue :  he 
is  unprejudiced,  and  cares  nothing  even  for  his  own  royal 
rank.  I  will  therefore  remain  in  this  haven,  whither  the 
storms,  which  have  so  long  driven  me  from  shore  to  shore, 
have  now  safely  moored  me.  My  happiness  will  last  just  as 
long  as  God  pleases."* 

He  laughed  heartily,  and  took  his  cash-book,  in  which  he 
entered  receipts  and  expenditures.  It  was  Voltaire's  great- 
est pleasure  to  add  up  his  accounts  from  time  to  time,  and 
gloat  over  the  growth  of  his  fortune;  to  compare,  day  by 
day,  his  receipts  and  expenses,  and  to  find  that  a  handsome 
*  Voltaire's  own  words.— CEuvres,  p.  110. 


458  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OB, 

sum  was  almost  daily  placed  to  his  credit.  The  smallest 
necessary  expenditure  angered  him.  With  a  dark  frown  he 
said  to  himself:  " It  is  unjust  and  mean  to  require  of  me  to 
buy  provender  for  my  horse,  and  to  have  my  carriage  re- 
paired ;  if  the  king  furnishes  me  with  an  equipage,  he  should 
not  allow  it  to  be  any  expense  to  me  The  major-domo  is 
an  old  miser,  who  cheats  me  every  month  out  of  some  poimds 
of  sugar  and  coffee,  and  the  wax-lights  are  becoming  thinner 
and  poorer.  I  will  complain  to  King  Frederick  of  all  this; 
he  must  see  that  order  prevails  in  his  palace." 

Voltaire  closed  his  account-book,  and  murmured :  "  When 
I  have  an  income  of  a  htmdred  and  fifty  thousand  francs,  I 
will  cease  to  economize.  God  be  praised,  I  have  almost 
reached  the  goal !  But,"  said  he,  impatiently,  "  in  order  to 
effect  this,  I  must  remain  here  a  few  years,  and  add  my  pen- 
sion to  my  income.  Nothing  must  prevent  this — I  must  over- 
come every  obstacle.  What !  who  can  hinder  me  ?  my  so-called 
friends,  who  naturally  are  my  most  bitter  enemies  ?  Ha,  ha ! 
what  a  romantic  idea  of  this  genial  king  to  assemble  six 
friends  around  him  at  Sans-Souci,  the  most  of  them  being 
authors — that  is  to  say,  natural  enemies!  I  believe  if  two 
authors,  two  women,  or  two  pietists,  were  placed  alone  upon  a 
desert  isle,  they  would  forget  their  dependence  upon  each 
other,  and  commence  intriguing  at  once.  This,  alas!  is 
humanity,  and  being  so,  one  must  withdraw  from  the  poor 
affair  advantageously  and  cimningly.*  No  one  can  live 
peacefully  in  this  world ;  least  of  all,  in  the  neighborhood  of 
a  king.  It  is  with  kings  as  with  coquettes,  their  glances 
kindle  jealousy — and  Frederick  is  a  great  coquette.  I  must, 
therefore,  drive  my  rivals  from  the  field,  and  enjoy  in  peace 
the  favor  of  the  king.  Now  which  of  my  rivals  are  danger- 
ous to  me?  All!  all!  I  must  banish  them  all!  I  will  sow 
such  discontent  and  rage  and  malice  and  strife  amongst 
them,  that  they  will  fly  in  hot  haste,  and  thank  God  if  I  do 
not  bite  off  their  noses  before  they  escape.  I  will  turn  this, 
their  laughing  paradise,  into  a  hell,  and  I  will  be  the  devil  to 
chase  them  with  glowing  pitchforks.  Yes,  even  to  Siberia 
will  I  drive  this  long-legged  peacock,  Maupertius — him,  first 
of  all;  then  D'Argens,  then  Algarotti,  then  this  over- wise 
•  Voltaire,  (Euvres,  p.  376. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    459 

and  good  Lord  Marshal,  and  all  others  like  him !  When  Vol- 
taire's sun  is  in  the  ascendant,  not  even  stars  shall  glitter. 
It  shall  not  be!  I  will  prove  to  them  that  Voltaire's  fiery 
rays  have  burned  them  to  ashes !  "  * 

He  laughed  aloud,  and  seated  himself  to  write  a  poem. 
He  was  invited  that  evening  to  a  soiree  by  the  queen-mother, 
where  he  wished  to  shine  as  an  improvisator.  Above  all 
other  things,  he  wished  to  win  the  heart  of  the  Princess 
Amelia.  Since  she  had  played  the  part  of  Aurelia,  in 
"  Rome  Sauvee,"  he  had  felt  a  passion  for  the  princess, 
who  had  betrayed  to  the  life  the  ardor  and  the  pains  of 
love,  and  whose  great  flaming  eyes  seemed,  from  their  mys- 
terious depths,  to  rouse  the  soul  of  the  poet.  Voltaire  had 
promised  the  Princess  Amelia  to  improvise  upon  any  subject 
she  should  select,  and  he  relied  upon  his  cunning  to  incline 
her  choice  in  such  a  direction  as  to  make  the  poem  he  was 
now  writing  appropriate  and  seem  impromptu. 

While  thus  occupied,  his  servant  entered  and  announced 
a  number  of  distinguished  gentlemen,  who  were  in  the  parlor, 
and  wished  to  make  the  great  author  a  morning  visit.  "  Let 
them  all  wait !  "  said  Voltaire,  angrily ;  declaring  that  this 
disturbance  had  cost  him  a  piquant  rhyme. 

"  But,  gracious  sir,"  stammered  the  servant,  "  some  of  the 
most  distinguished  men  of  the  court  and  the  oldest  generals, 
are  there ! " 

"  What  do  I  care  for  their  epaulets  or  their  excellencies  ? 
Let  them  wait,  or  go  to  the  devil — if  they  prefer  it." 

Well,  the  eminent  gentlemen  waited ;  indeed,  they  waited 
patiently,  until  the  great  Voltaire,  the  favorite  of  the  king, 
the  universal  French  author,  in  his  pride  and  arrogance  was 
graciously  pleased  to  show  himself  amongst  the  Dutch  bar- 
barians, and  allow  some  rays  of  his  intellect  to  fall  upon  and 
inspire  them ! 

The  saloon  was  indeed  crowded  with  princes,  generals, 
and  nobles.  Voltaire  had  just  returned  to  Berlin  from  Pots- 
dam, and  all  hastened  to  pay  their  respects  and  commend 
themselves  to  his  grace  and  favor.t 

»  Voltaire,  (Euvres,  p.  378. 

+  Forney  writes  thus  in  his  "Memoirs":  "During  the  winter  months 
which  Voltaire  spent  in  the  palace  of  Berlin,  he  was  the  favorite  of  the 
court.    Princes,  ambassadors,  ministers,  generals,  nobles  of  the  highest  rank, 


460  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

Voltaire  was  very  gracious  this  morning.  As  he  was  to 
play  the  part  of  improvisator  that  night,  he  thought  it  politic 
to  make  favor  with  all  those  who  would  be  present.  He  hoped 
that  all  the  world  would  thunder  out  their  enraptured  ap- 
plause, and  that  Maupertius,  D'Argens,  Algarotti,  La  Met- 
trie,and  all  other  friends  of  the  king,  would  be  filled  with  envy 
and  rage.  He  smiled,  therefore,  beniguantly,  and  had  kind 
and  flattering  words  for  all.  His  bon-mots  and  piquant  witti- 
cisms seemed  inexhaustible. 

Suddenly  his  servant  drew  near,  and  said  it  was  necessary 
to  speak  to  him  on  a  matter  of  great  importance.  Voltaire 
turned  with  a  winning  smile  to  his  guests,  and,  praying  them 
to  wait  for  his  return,  entered  his  private  room. 

"  Well,  Tripot,  what  have  you  to  say  that  is  important  ?  " 

"  Gracious  sir,  the  court  is  in  mourning." 

Voltaire  looked  at  him  enraged.  "  Fool !  what  is  that 
tome?" 

"  It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  you,  sir,  if  you  are  go- 
ing this  evening  to  the  soiree  of  the  queen-mother." 

"  Will  you  run  me  mad,  Tripot  ?  What  has  the  court 
mourning  to  do  with  the  queen's  soiree?" 

"  Gracious  sir,  the  explanation  is  very  simple.  When 
the  court  is  in  mourning,  no  one  can  appear  there  in  embroid- 
ered clothes;  you  must  wear  a  plain  black  coat." 

"  I  have  no  plain  black  coat,"  said  Voltaire,  with  a  frown- 
ing brow. 

"  It  is  necessary,  then,  for  you  to  order  one,  and  I  have 
sent  Monsieur  Pilleneure  to  come  and  take  your  measure." 

"  Are  you  insane,  Tripot  ?  "  cried  Voltaire.  "  Do  you  re- 
gard me  as  so  vile  a  spendthrift,  so  brainless  a  fool,  as  to 
order  a  new  coat  for  the  sake  of  one  evening's  amusement — 
a  coat  which  will  cost  an  immense  sum  of  money,  and  must 
then  hang  in  the  wardrobe  to  be  destroyed  by  moths?  In 
eight  days  this  mourning  will  be  over,  and  I  would  be  several 
\undred  francs  poorer,  and  possess  a  black  coat  1  could  never 
tvear !  I  will  not  go  this  evening  to  the  soiree  of  the  queen- 
went  to  his  morning  receptions,  and  were  often  received  by  him  with  con- 
temptuous scorn.  A  great  prince  was  pleased  to  play  chess  with  him,  and 
allowed  him  every  time  to  win  the  stake  of  two  louis  d'or.  It  was  declared, 
however,  that  sometimes  the  gold  disappeared  before  the  end  of  the  game, 
and  could  not  be  found." — "  Souvenirs  d'un  Citoyen." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    461 

mother;  this  is  decided.  I  will  announce  myself  sick.  Go 
and  countermand  the  tailor." 

He  turned  to  leave  the  room,  but  paused  suddenly.  "  I 
cannot  decline  this  invitation,"  murmured  he.  "  It  is  widely 
known  that  I  have  promised  to  improvise.  The  world  is 
looking  on  eagerly.  If  I  do  not  go,  or  if  I  announce  myself 
sick,  they  will  say  I  shrink  from  this  ordeal.  My  enemies 
will  triumph! — Tripot,  I  am  obliged  to  go  to  the  soiree  of 
the  queen." 

"  Then  the  tailor  must  come  to  take  your  measure  ? " 

"Fool!"  cried  Voltaire,  stamping  furiously.  "I  have 
told  you  I  have  no  gold  for  such  follies.  Gather  up  you^ 
small  amount  of  understanding,  and  think  of  some  other  ex- 
pedient." 

"  Well,  your  excellency,  I  know  a  mode  of  escape  from 
this  embarrassment,  but  I  scarcely  dare  propose  it." 

"  Speak  out — any  means  are  good  which  attain  their  ob- 
ject." 

"  Below,  in  the  court,  dwells  the  merchant  Fromery.  His 
servant  is  my  very  good  friend.  I  have  learned  from  him 
that  his  master  has  just  purchased  a  beautiful  black  coat. 
I  think  he  has  about  the  figure  of  your  excellency." 

"  Ah,  I  understand,"  said  Voltaire,  whose  countenance 
became  clearer.  "  You  will  borrow  for  me,  from  your  friend, 
the  coat  of  his  master  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  your  excellency  is  not  offended  at  my  proposal  ? " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  find  the  idea  capital.  Go,  Tripot, 
and  borrow  the  coat  of  Fromery." 

Voltaire  returned  once  more  to  his  distinguished  guests, 
and  enraptured  them  again  by  his  witty  slanders  and  bril- 
liant conversation.  As  the  last  visitor  departed,  he  rang 
for  his  servant. 

"  Well,  Tripot,  have  you  the  coat  ?  "  ' 

"  I  have,  your  excellency." 

Voltaire  rubbed  his  hands  with  delight.  "  It  seems  this 
is  a  happy  day  for  me — I  make  the  most  advantageous  busi- 
ness arrangements." 

"  But  it  will  be  necessary  for  your  grace  to  try  on  this 
coat.  I  fear  it  is  too  large;  since  I  saw  Fromery,  he  has 
grown  fat." 


i62  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR. 

"  The  ass !  "  cried  Voltaire.  "  How  does  he  dare  to  fat- 
ten, when  all  the  people  of  intellect  and  celebrity,  like  my- 
self, grow  thinner  every  day  ? "  So  saying,  he  put  on  the 
coat  of  the  merchant  Fromery.  "  Yes,  truly,  it  is  far  too 
large  for  me.  Oh,  oh  I  to  think  that  the  coat  of  a  pitiful 
Dutch  tradesman  is  too  large  for  the  great  French  poet! 
Well,  that  is  because  these  Dutch  barbarians  think  of  noth- 
ing but  gormandizing.  They  puff  up  their  gross  bodies  with 
common  food,  and  they  daily  become  fatter;  but  the  spirit 
suffers.  Miserable  slaves  of  their  appetites,  they  are  of  no 
use  themselves,  and  their  coats  are  also  useless !  " 

"  Does  your  excellency  believe  that  it  is  impossible  to 
wear  the  coat  ? " 

"  Do  I  believe  it  is  impossible  ?  Look  at  me !  Do  I  not 
look  like  a  himgry  heir  in  the  testamentary  coat  of  his  rich 
cousin  the  brewer?  Would  it  not  be  thought  that  I  was  a 
scarecrow,  to  drive  the  birds  from  the  cornfields  ? " 

At  this  moment  Monsieur  Pilleneure  was  announced. 

"  Good  Heaven !  I  forgot  to  countermand  the  tailor !  " 
cried  Tripot. 

"  That  is  fortunate ! "  said  Voltaire,  calming  himself, 
"  God  sends  this  tailor  here  to  put  an  end  to  my  vexations. 
This  coat  is  good  and  handsome,  only  a  little  too  large — ^the 
tailor  wiU  alter  it  immediately." 

"That  wijl  be  splendid!"  said  Tripot.  "He  will  take 
in  the  seams,  and  to-morrow  enlarge  it  again." 

"  Not  so ! "  cried  Voltaire.  "  The  coat  could  not  pos- 
sibly look  well;  he  must  cut  away  the  seams." 

"  But  then,"  said  Tripot,  hesitatingly,  "  Fromery  could 
never  wear  his  coat  again." 

"  Fromery  will  learn  that  Voltaire  has  done  him  the 
honor  to  borrow  his  coat,  and  I  think  that  will  be  a  sufficient 
compensation.     Tell  the  tailor  to  enter." 

Thanks  to  the  adroitness  of  Pilleneure,  Voltaire  ap- 
peared at  the  soiree  of  the  queen-mother  in  a  handsome, 
well-fitting  black  coat.  No  one  guessed  that  the  mourning 
dress  of  the  celebrated  French  writer  belonged  to  the  mer- 
chant Fromery,  and  that  the  glittering  diamond  agraifes  in 
his  bosom,  and  the  costly  ring^s  on  his  fingers,  were  the  prop- 
erty of  the  Jew  Hirsch.     Voltaire's  eyes  were  more  sparkling 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    463 

than  diamonds,  and  the  glances  which  he  fixed  upon  the 
Princess  Amelia  more  glowing;  her  pale  and  earnest  beauty 
inspired  him  to  finer  wit  and  richer  hymns  of  praise. 

No  one  dared  to  say  that  this  passionate  adoration  offered 
to  the  princess  was  unbecoming  and  offensive  to  etiquette. 
Voltaire  was  the  man  of  his  age,  and  therefore  justified  in 
'  offering  his  worship  even  to  a  princess.  He  was  also  the 
favorite  of  the  king,  who  allowed  him  privileges  granted 
to  no  other  man.  There  was  one  present,  however,  who 
found  these  words  of  passion  and  of  rapture  too  bold,  and 
that  one  was  King  Frederick.  He  had  entered  noiselessly 
and  unannounced,  as  was  his  custom,  and  he  saw,  with  a  de- 
risive smile,  how  every  one  surrounded  Voltaire,  and  all 
were  zealous  in  expressing  their  rapture  over  his  improvised 
poem,  and  entreating  him  to  repeat  it. 

"How  can  I  repeat  what  I  no  longer  know?"  said  he. 
"  An  angel  floated  by  me  in  the  air,  and,  by  a  glance  alone, 
she  whispered  words  which  my  enraptured  lips  uttered  as  in 
a  wild  hallucination." 

"  The  centuries  to  come  are  to  be  pitied  if  they  are  to  be 
deprived  of  this  enchanting  poem,"  said  the  Princess  Amelia. 
She  had  remarked  the  entrance  of  the  king,  knew  that  his 
eye  was  fixed  upon  her,  and  wished  to  please  him  by  flatter- 
ing his  beloved  favorite. 

"  If  your  royal  highness  thinks  thus,  I  will  now  write  ouV 
a  poem  which  I  had  designed  only  to  recite,"  said  Voltaire, 
seating  himself  at  the  card-table;  and,  taking  a  card  au<J 
pencil,  he  wrote  with  a  swift  hand  and  handed  the  card,  bow 
ing  profoundly. 

The  king,  who  was  a  silent  spectator  of  this  scene,  looked 
at  the  Princess  Amelia,  and  saw  that  she  blushed  as  she 
read,  and  her  brow  was  clouded. 

"  Allow  me,  also,  to  read  the  poem  of  the  great  Voltaire, 
my  sister,"  said  the  king,  drawing  near. 

The  princess  handed  him  the  card,  and  while  Frederick 
read,  all  stood  around  him  in  respectful  silence. 

"  This  poem  is  sublime,"  said  the  king,  smiling.  He  saw 
that  the  princess  was  no  longer  grave,  and  that  Voltaire 
^'■eathed  freely,  as  if  relieved  from  a  great  apprehension. 
"  This  little  ix»en»  is  so  enchanting,  that  you  must  allow  me 


^64  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OR, 

to  copy  it,  my  sister.     Go  on  with  your  conversation,  mes- 
sieurs, it  does  not  disturb  me." 

A  request  from  the  lips  of  a  king  is  a  command;  all  ex- 
erted themselves  therefore  to  keep  up  a  gay  and  animated 
conversation,    and    to    seem    thoughtless    and    unoccupied. 
Frederick  seated  himself  at  the  table,  and  read  once  more  the 
poem  of  Voltaire,  which  was  as  follows : 
"  Souvent  un  peu  de  verite 
Se  mele  au  plus  grossier  mensonge. 
Cette  nuit  dans  I'erreur  d'un  songe, 
Au  rang  des  rois  j'ctais  monte, 
Je  vous  aimais  alors,  et  j'osais  vous  le  dire, 
Les  dieux  a  mon  reveil  ne  m'ont  pas  tout  6t4, 
Je  n'ai  perdu  que  mon  empire." 

"  Insolent ! "  cried  the  king,  and  his  scornful  glance 
wandered  away  to  Voltaire,  who  was  seated  near  the  queen 
engaged  in  lively  conversation.  "  We  will  damp  his  ardor," 
said  he,  smiling;  and,  taking  a  card,  he  commenced  writing 
hastily. 

Truly  at  this  moment  the  stern  master  Voltaire  might 
have  been  content  with  his  royal  pupil;  the  rhymes  were 
good  and  flowed  freely.  When  Frederick  had  finished  his 
poem,  he  put  Voltaire's  card  in  his  bosom  and  drew  near  to 
the  princess. 

"  The  poem  is  piquant,"  said  he ;  "  read  it  yourself,  and 
then  ask  Voltaire  to  read  it  aloud." 

Amelia  looked  strangely  at  the  king,  but  as  she  read,  a 
soft  smile  lighted  up  her  lovely,  melancholy  face.  Bowing 
to  her  brother,  she  said  in  low  tones,  "  I  thank  your  high- 
ness." 

"  Now  give  the  card  to  Voltaire,  and  ask  him  to  read  it," 
said  the  king. 

Voltaire  took  the  card,  but  as  he  read  he  did  not  smile 
as  the  princess  had  done — he  turned  pale  and  pressed  his  lips 
tightly  together. 

"  Read  it,"  said  the  king. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Voltaire,  who  had  immediately 
recovered  his  self-possession ;  "  this  little  poem,  so  hastily 
composed,  was  not  worthy  of  the  exalted  princess  to  whom  I 
dared  address  it.     Your  majesty  will  be  graciously  pleased 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     466 

to  remember  that  it  was  born  in  a  moment,  and  the  next  in- 
stant lost  its  value.  As  I  now  read  it,  I  find  it  dull  and 
trivial.  You  will  not  be  so  cruel  as  to  force  me  to  read  aloud 
to  your  majesty  that  which  I  condemn  utterly." 

"Oh,  le  coquin!^^  murmured  Frederick,  while  Voltaire, 
with  a  profound  bow,  placed  the  card  in  his  pocket. 

When  the  soiree  was  over,  and  Voltaire  returned  to  hii? 
rooms,  the  gay  and  genial  expression  which  he  had  so  care- 
fully maintained  during  the  evening  disappeared;  and  his 
lips,  which  had  smiled  so  kindly,  muttered  words  of  cursing 
and  bitterness.  He  ordered  Tripot  to  arrange  his  writing- 
table  and  leave  the  room.  Being  now  alone,  he  drew  the 
card  from  his  bosom,  and,  as  if  to  convince  himself  that  what 
he  saw  was  truth  and  no  cruel  dream,  he  read  aloud,  but  with 
a  trembling  voice : 

"  On  remarque,  pour  I'ordinaire, 
Qu'un  songe  est  analoque  a  notre  caractere, 
Dn  heros  peut  rever,  qu'il  a  passe  le  Ehin, 
Vn  chien  qu'il  aboie  a  la  lune ; 
Un  joueur,  qu'il  a  fait  fortune, 
Un  voleur,  qu'il  a  fait  butin. 
Mais  que  Voltaire,  a  I'aide  d'un  mensonge, 
Ose  se  croire  roi  lui  que  n'est  qu'un  faquin, 
Ma  fois !  c'est  abuser  du  songe." 

"  So  I  am  already  a  scoundrel  ?  "  said  Voltaire,  grinning. 
"  My  enemies  triumph,  and  he  who  a  short  time  since  was 
called  the  wise  man  of  the  age,  the  Virgil  of  France,  is  noth- 
ing but  a  scoundrel!  This  time,  I  confess,  I  merited  my 
humiliation,  and  the  consciousness  of  this  increases  my 
rage.  I  am  a  good-humored,  credulous  fool.  Why  was  I 
so  silly  as  to  credit  the  solemn  protestations  of  the  king  that 
I  should  never  feel  his  superior  rank;  that  he  would  never 
show  himself  the  master?  If  I  dare  to  claim  an  equality 
with  him  for  an  instant,  he  swings  his  rod  of  correction, 
and  I  am  bowed  in  the  dust!  Voltaire  is  not  the  man  to 
bow  patiently.  The  day  shall  come  in  which  I  will  revenge 
with  rich  interest  the  degradation  of  this  evening.  But 
enough  of  anger  and  excitement.  I  will  sleep;  perhaps  in 
happy  dreams  I  shall  wander  from  the  chilly  borders  of  the 
Spree  to  my  own  beautiful  Paris." 


466  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI;  OK, 

He  called  Tripot,  and  commanded  him  to  announce  to 
Fredersdorf  that  he  was  ill,  and  could  not  accompany  the 
king  to  Potsdam  in  the  morning. 

He  then  retired,  and  the  gods,  perhaps,  heard  his  prayer, 
and  allowed  him  in  dreams  to  look  upon  Paris,  where  the 
Marquis  de  Pompadour  reigned  supreme,  and  the  pious 
priests  preached  against  the  Atheist  Voltaire,  to  whom  the 
great-hearted  King  of  Prussia  had  given  an  asylum.  Per- 
haps he  saw  in  his  dreams  the  seigneurie  of  his  glittering 
future,  and  his  beautiful  house  at  Ferney,  where  he  built 
a  temple,  with  the  proud  inscription,  "  Voltaire  Deo 
erexit! " 

At  all  events,  his  dreams  must  have  been  pleasant  and 
refreshing.  He  laughed  in  his  sleep;  and  his  countenance, 
which  was  so  often  clouded  by  base  and  wicked  passions, 
was  bright  and  clear;  it  was  the  face  of  a  poet,  who,  with 
closed  eyes,  looked  up  into  the  heaven  of  heavens. 

The  morning  came,  and  Voltaire  still  slept — even  the 
rolling  of  the  carriages  aroused  him  but  for  a  moment;  he, 
wrapped  himself  up  in  his  warm  bed,  the  soft  eider  down 
of  his  pillow  closed  over  his  head  and  made  him  invisible. 
Tripot  came  lightly  upon  tiptoe  and  removed  the  black 
coat  of  the  merchant  Fromery.  Voltaire  heard  nothing;  he 
«lept  on.  And  now  the  door  was  noisily  opened,  and  a 
young  woman,  with  fresh,  rosy  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes, 
entered  the  room;  she  was  dressed  as  a  chambermaid,  a 
little  white  coquettish  cap  covered  her  hair,  and  a  white 
apron  with  a  little  bodice  was  laced  over  her  striped  woollen 
robe.  Upon  her  white,  naked  arm  she  carried  linen  which 
she  threw  carelessly  upon  the  floor,  and  drew  with  rash  steps 
near  the  bed.     Voltaire  still  slept,  and  was  still  invisible. 

The  young  chambermaid^  believing  that  he  had  gone 
with  the  king  to  Potsdam,  had  come  to  arrange  the  room; 
with  a  quick  movement  she  seized  the  bed  with  her  sinewy 
hands  and  threw  it  off.  A  wild  cry  was  heard!  a  white 
skeleton  figure  rose  from  the  bed,  now  lying  in  the  middle  of 
the  chamber,  and  danced  about  the  floor  with  doubled  fists 
and  wild  curses.  The  girl  uttered  a  shriek  of  terror  and 
rushed  from  the  room ;  and  if  the  form  and  the  nightcap  had 
not  been  purely  white,  she  would  have  sworn  she  had  seen 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    467 

the  devil  in  person,  and  that  she  had  caSt  him  out  from  the 
bed  of  the  great  French  poet.* 


CHAPTER  1. 

THE  LOVERS, 

The  day  of  grace  was  at  an  end.  The  four  weeks  which 
the  king  had  granted  to  his  sister,  in  order  that  she  might 
take  counsel  with  herself,  were  passed,  and  the  heart  of  the 
princess  was  unmoved — only  her  face  was  changed.  Amelia 
hid  her  pallor  with  rouge,  and  the  convulsive  trembling  of 
her  lips  with  forced  smiles;  but  it  was  evident  that  her 
cheeks  became  daily  more  hollow,  and  her  eyes  more  in- 
flamed. Even  the  king  remarked  this,  and  sent  his  physician 
to  examine  her  eyes.  The  princess  received  this  messenger 
of  the  king  with  a  bitter,  icy  smile. 

"  The  king  is  very  good ;  but  I  am  not  ill — I  do  not 
suffer." 

"But,  your  royal  highness,  your  eyes  suffer.  They  are 
weak  and  inflamed :  allow  me  to  examine  them." 

"  Yes,  as  my  brother  has  commanded  it ;  but  I  warn  you, 
you  cannot  heal  them." 

Meckel,  the  physician,  examined  her  eyes  with  the  closest 
attention,  then  shook  his  head  thoughtfidly. 

"  Princess,"  said  he  at  last,  in  low,  respectful  tones,  "  if 
you  grant  your  eyes  no  rest;  if,  instead  of  sleeping  quietly, 
you  pass  the  night  pacing  your  room;  if  you  continue  to  ex- 
haust your  eyes  by  constant  weeping,  the  most  fatal  conse- 
quences may  result." 

"  Do  you  mean  I  will  become  blind  ? "  said  Amtelia, 
quietly. 

"I  mean  your  eyes  are  suffering;  that,  however,  is  no 
acute  disease ;  but  your  whole  nervous  system  is  in  a  danger- 
ous condition,  and  all  this  must  be  rectified  before  youir  eyetf 
can  be  healed." 

•  Thi^ault,  V.,'281. 


468  BERLIN   AND  SANS-SOUCI:  OR, 

"  Prescribe  something,  then,  as  his  majesty  has  command- 
ed it,"  said  Amelia,  coldly. 

"  I  will  give  your  royal  highness  a  remedy ;  but  it  is  of 
so  strong  and  dangerous  a  nature,  that  it  must  be  used  only 
with  the  utmost  caution.  It  is  a  liquid;  it  must  be  heated, 
and  you  must  allow  the  steam  to  pass  into  your  eyes.  Your 
highness  must  be  very,  very  careful.  The  substances  in  this 
mixture  are  so  strong,  so  corrosive,  that  if  you  approach  too 
near  the  steam,  it  will  not  only  endanger  your  eyes,  but  your 
face  and  your  voice.  You  must  keep  your  mouth  firmly 
closed,  and  your  eyes  at  least  ten  inches  above  the  vessel 
from  which  the  steam  is  rising.  Will  your  highness  remem- 
ber all  this,  and  act  as  I  have  directed  ? " 

"  I  will  remember  it,"  said  Amelia,  replying  only  to  the 
first  part  of  his  question. 

Meckel  did  not  remark  this.  He  wrote  his  prescription 
and  withdrew,  once  more  reminding  Amelia  of  the  caution 
necessary. 

As  has  been  said,  this  was  the  last  day  of  grace.  The 
princess  seemed  calm  and  resigned.  Even  to  her  confidential 
maid  she  uttered  no  complaints.  The  steaming  mixture  was 
prepared,  and,  while  Amelia  held  herself  some  distance 
above  it,  as  the  physician  had  commanded,  she  said  laughing- 
ly to  Ernestine :  "  I  must  strive  to  make  my  eyes  bright, 
that  my  brother  may  be  pleased,  or  at  least  that  he  may  not 
be  excited  against  me." 

The  prescription  seemed  to  work  wonders.  The  eyes  of 
the  princess  were  clear  and  bright,  and  upon  her  cheeks 
burned  that  dark,  glowing  carnation,  which  an  energetic  will 
and  a  strong  and  bold  resolve  sometimes  call  into  life. 

"  Now,  Ernestine,  come !  make  me  a  careful  and  tasteful 
toilet.  It  seems  to  me  that  this  is  my  wedding-day;  that  I 
am  about  to  consecrate  myself  forever  to  a  beloved  friend." 

"  Oh,  princess,  let  it  be  thus !  "  cried  Fraulein  von  Haak, 
imploringly,  "  Constrain  your  noble  heart  to  follow  the 
wishes  of  the  king,  and  wed  the  King  of  Denmark." 

Amelia  looked  at  her,  amazed  and  angry.  "  You  know 
that  Trenck  has  received  my  warning,  and  has  replied  to  me. 
He  will  listen  to  no  suggestions ;  under  no  pretext,  will  he  be 
influenced  to  cross  the  borders  of  Prussia,  not  even  if  full 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    469 

pardon  and  royal  grace  are  offered  him.  I  need  not,  there- 
fore, be  anxious  on  his  account." 

"  That  being  the  case,  your  royal  highness  should  now 
think  a  little  of  your  own  happiness.  You  should  seek  to  be 
reconciled  to  your  fate — to  yield  to  that  which  is  unalterable. 
The  king,  the  royal  family,  yes,  the  whole  land  will  rejoice 
if  this  marriage  with  the  King  of  Denmark  takes  place.  Oh, 
princess,  be  wise!  do  willingly,  peacefully,  what  you  will 
otherwise  be  forced  to  do!  Consent  to  be  Queen  of  Den- 
mark." 

"  You  have  never  loved,  Ernestine,  and  you  do  not  know 
that  it  is  a  crime  to  break  a  holy  oath  sworn  unto  God.  But 
let  us  be  silent.   I  know  what  is  before  me — I  am  prepared !  " 

With  calm  indifference,  Amelia  completed  her  toilet; 
then  stepped  to  the  large  Psyche,  which  stood  in  her  boudoir, 
and  examined  herself  with  a  searching  eye. 

"  I  think  there  is  nothing  in  my  appearance  to  enrage  the 
king.  I  have  laid  rouge  heavily  upon  my  cheeks,  and,  thanks 
to  Meckel's  prescription,  my  eyes  are  as  brilliant  as  if  they 
had  shed  no  tears.  If  I  meet  my  brother  with  this  friendly, 
happy  smile,  he  will  not  remark  that  my  cheeks  are  sunken. 
He  will  be  content  with  me,  and  perhaps  listen  to  my 
prayers." 

Ernestine  regarded  her  with  a  sad  and  troubled  glance. 
"You  look  pale,  princess,  in  spite  of  your  rouge,  and  your 
laugh  lacerates  the  heart.  There  is  a  tone,  a  ring  in  it,  like 
a  broken  harp-string." 

"  Still,"  said  Amelia,  "  still,  Ernestine !  my  hour  has 
come !  I  go  to  the  king.  Look,  the  hand  of  the  clock  points 
to  twelve,  and  I  ask  an  audience  of  the  king  at  this  hour. 
Farewell,  Ernestine !     Ernestine,  pray  for  me." 

She  wrapped  herself  in  her  mantle,  and  stepped  slowly 
and  proudly  through  the  corridors  to  the  wing  of  the  castle 
occupied  by  the  king.  Frederick  received  her  in  his  library. 
He  advanced  to  the  door  to  meet  her,  and  with  a  kindly  smile 
extended  both  his  hands. 

"Welcome,  Amelia,  a  thousand  times  welcome!  Your 
coming  proves  to  me  that  your  heart  has  found  the  strength 
which  I  expected ;  that  my  sweet  sister  h^a  recovered  herself, 
her  maidenly  pride,  fully. 


4;70  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI :  OR, 

"  The  proud  daughter  of  the  HohenzoUerns  is  here  to  say 
to  the  king — '  The  King  of  Denmark  demands  my  hand.  I 
will  bestow  it  upon  him.  My  father's  daughter  dare  not  wed 
beneath  her.  She  must  look  onward  and  upward.  There  is 
no  myrtle-wreath  for  me,  but  a  crown  is  glittering,  and  I  ac- 
cept it.  God  has  made  both  heart  and  brain  strong  enough 
to  bear  its  weight.  I  shall  be  no  happy  shepherdess,  but  I 
shall  be  a  great  and  good  queen ;  I  will  make  others  happy.'  " 

"  You  have  come,  Amelia,  to  say  this  to  the  king ;  but 
you  have  also  come  to  say  to  your  brother — *  I  am  ready  to 
fulfil  your  wishes.  I  know  that  no  selfish  views,  no  am- 
bitious plans  influence  you.  I  know  that  you  think  only 
of  my  prosperity  and  my  happiness ;  that  you  would  save  me 
from  misfortime,  humiliation,  and  shame;  that  you  would 
guard  me  from  the  mistakes  and  weaknesses  of  my  own 
heart.  I  accede  to  your  wish,  my  brother — I  will  be  queen 
of  Denmark  ? '  Now,  Amelia,"  said  Frederick,  with  an 
agitated  voice,  "  have  I  not  rightly  divined  ?  Have  you  not 
sought  me  for  this  purpose  ?  " 

"  No,  my  brother,  no,  no ! "  cried  Amelia,  with  wild, 
gushing  tears.  "  No ;  I  have  come  to  implore  your  pity, 
Vour  mercy."  Completely  beside  herself,  mad  with  passion 
'and  pain,  she  fell  upon  her  knees  and  raised  her  arms  en- 
treatingly  to  the  king.  "  Mercy,  my  brother,  mercy !  Oh, 
spare  my  poor,  martyred  heart!  Leave  me  at  least  the  lib- 
erty to  complain  and  to  be  wretched!  Do  not  condemn  me 
to  marry  Denmark !  " 

Frederick  stepped  backward,  and  his  brow  darkened; 
but  he  controlled  his  impatience,  and  drew  near  his  sister 
with  a  kindly  smile,  and  gently  raising  her  from  her  knees, 
he  led  her  to  the  divan. 

"  Come,  Amelia,  it  does  not  become  you  to  kneel  to  a 
HiSTi — te  God  only  should  a  princess  kneel.  Let  us  be  seated, 
and  speak  to  each  other  as  brother  and  sister  should  speak 
who  love  and  wish  to  understand  each  other." 

"  I  am  ready  for  aU  else,  I  will  accommodate  myself  to 
all  else — only  be  merciful!  Dc  w>-^  compel  me  to  wed  Den- 
mark!" 

"  Ah,  see,  my  sister,  although  you  are  struggling  against 
me,  how  justly  you  comprehend  your  position !  "  said  thr 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    471 

king,  mildly.  "  You  speak  of  wedding  Denmark.  Your  ex- 
alted and  great  destiny  sleeps  in  these  words.  A  princess 
when  she  marries  does  not  wed  a  man,  but  a  whole  people; 
she  does  not  only  make  a  man  but  a  nation  happy.  There 
are  the  weeping,  whose  tears  she  will  dry;  the  poor,  whose 
hunger  she  will  assuage ;  the  unhappy,  to  whom  she  will  bring 
consolation;  the  sick  and  dying,  with  whom  she  will  pray. 
There  is  a  whole  people  advancing  to  meet  her  with  shouts  of 
gladness,  stretching  out  their  hands,  and  asking  for  love. 
God  has  blessed  the  hearts  of  queens  with  the  power  to  love 
their  subjects,  because  they  are  women.*  Oh,  my  sister,  this 
is  a  great,  a  noble  destiny  which  Providence  offers  you — to 
be  the  beneficent,  mediating,  smiling  angel,  standing  ever 
by  the  side  of  a  king — a  bond  of  love  between  a  king  and  his 
subjects!  Truly  one  might  well  offer  up  their  poor,  pitiful 
wishes,  their  own  personal  happiness,  for  such  a  noble  des- 
tiny." 

"I  have  no  more  happiness  to  offer  up,"  sighed  Amelia. 
"  I  have  no  happiness ;  I  do  not  ask  so  much.  I  plead  for 
the  poor  right  of  living  for  my  great  sorrow — of  being  faith- 
ful to  myself." 

"  He  only  is  faithful  to  himself  who  lives  to  discharge  his 
duties,"  said  the  king.  "He  only  is  true  to  himself  who 
governs  himself,  and  if  he  cannot  be  happy,  at  least  endeav- 
ors to  make  others  so,  and  this  vocation  of  making  others 
happy  is  the  noblest  calling  for  a  woman;  by  this  shall  she 
overcome  her  selfishness  and  find  comfort,  strength,  and 
peace.  And  who,  my  sister,  can  say  that  he  is  happy?  Our 
life  consists  in  unfulfilled  wishes,  vain  hopes  destroyed, 
ideals,  and  lost  illusions.  Look  at  me,  Amelia.  Have  I  ever 
been  happy?  Do  you  believe  that  there  is  a  day  of  my  life  I 
wovdd  live  over?  Have  I  not,  from  my  earliest  youth,  been 
acquainted  with  grief,  self-denial,  and  pain?  Are  not  all 
the  blossoms  of  my  life  broken  ?  Am  I  not,  have  I  not  ever 
been,  the  slave  of  my  rank  ? — a  man,  *  cabined,  cribbed,  con- 
fined,' though  I  appear  to  be  a  great  king  f  Oh,  I  will  not  re- 
late what  I  have  suffered — how  my  heart  has  been  lacerated 
and  trampled  upon!  I  will  only  say  to  you,  that,  notwith- 
standing this,  I  have  never  wished  to  be  other  than  I  am, 
that  I  have  been  always  thankful  for  my  fate;  glad  to  be 


472  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI :  OR, 

born  to  a  throne,  and  not  in  a  miserable  hut.  Believe  vae^ 
Amelia,  a  sublime  misfortune  is  better,  more  glorious,  than 
a  petty  happiness.  To  have  the  brow  wounded,  because  the 
crown  presses  too  heavily  upon  the  temples,  is  more  desirable 
than  to  breathe  out  your  sorrows  in  the  midst  of  poverty  and 
vulgarity,  then  sink  into  a  dark  and  unknown  grave.  God, 
who  has,  perhaps,  denied  us  the  blessing  of  love,  gives  fame 
as  a  compensation.     If  we  are  not  happy,  we  are  powerful !  " 

"  Ah,  my  brother,  these  are  the  views  of  a  man  and  a 
king,"  said  Amelia.  "  I  am  a  poor,  weak  woman.  For  me 
there  is  no  fame,  no  power !  " 

"  Isabella  of  Spain  and  Elizabeth  of  England  were  also 
women,  and  their  fame  has  extended  through  centuries." 

"  They,  however,  were  independent  queens.  I  can  be 
nothing  more  than  the  wife  of  a  king.  Oh,  my  brother,  let 
me  remain  only  the  sister  of  a  king !  Let  there  be  no  change 
in  my  fate — let  all  remain  as  it  is !  This  is  my  only  hope — 
my  only  prayer !  My  heart  is  dead,  and  every  wish  is  buried 
— let  it  suffice,  my  brother !     Do  not  ask  the  impossible !  " 

The  king  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  his  eyes  glowed  with 
scorn.  "  It  is,  then,  all  in  vain !  "  said  he,  fiercely.  "  You 
will  listen  neither  to  reason  nor  entreaty ! " 

"  Oh,  sire,  have  mercy — I  cannot  wed  the  King  of  Den- 
mark!" 

"  You  cannot !  "  cried  the  king ;  "  what  does  that  mean  ?  " 

"  That  means  that  I  have  sworn  never  to  become  the  wife 
of  another  than  of  him  whom  I  love ;  that  means  that  I  have 
sworn  to  die  unmarried,  unless  I  go  to  the  altar  with  my  be- 
loved!" 

"  This  wild,  mad  wish  can  never  be  fulfilled !  "  said  the 
king,  threateningly.  "You  will  marry — I,  the  king,  com- 
mand it ! " 

"  Command  me  not,  my  brother !  "  cried  Amelia,  proudly, 
"command  me  not!  You  stand  now  upon  the  extremest 
boundary  of  your  power;  it  will  be  easy  now  to  teach  you 
that  a  king  is  powerless  against  a  firm,  bold  will ! " 

"  Ah !  you  threaten  me !  " 

"  No,  I  pray  to  you — I  pray  wildly  to  your  hard  heart  for 
pity!  I  clasp  your  knees — I  pray  to  you,  as  the  wretched, 
the  hopeless  pray  to  God — have  mercy  upon  my  torment. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    473 

pity  my  unspeakable  anguish !  I  am  a  poor,  weak  woman — 
oh,  have  mercy!  My  heart  bleeds  from  a  thousand  wounds 
— comfort,  heal  it!  I  am  alone,  and  oh,  how  lonely! — be 
with  me,  my  brother,  and  protect  and  shield  me !  Oh,  my 
brother!  my  brother!  it  is  my  life,  my  youth,  my  future 
which  cries  out  to  you!  Mercy!  grace!  Drive  me  not  to 
extremity !  Be  merciful,  as  God  is  merciful !  Force  me  not 
into  rebellion  against  God,  against  Nature,  against  myself! 
Make  me  hot  an  unnatural  daughter,  an  unthankful  sister,  a 
disobedient  subject!  My  God!  My  God!  Oh,  let  your 
heart  be  touched!  I  cannot  wed  the  King  of  Denmark — 
say  not  that  I  shall !  " 

"  And  if  I  still  say  it  ?  If,  by  the  power  of  my  authority, 
as  your  brother  and  your  king,  I  command  you  to  obey  ? " 

"  I  may  perhaps  die,  but  your  command  will  have  no  other 
result,"  said  she,  rising  slowly,  and  meeting  the  enraged 
glance  of  the  king  with  a  proud  and  calm  aspect.  "  You 
have  not  listened  to  my  prayers ;  well,  then,  I  pray  no  more. 
But  I  swear  to  you,  and  God  in  heaven  hears  my  oath,  I 
will  never  marry!  Now,  my  king,  try  how  far  your  power 
reaches;  what  you  may  do  and  dare;  how  far  you  may  pre- 
vail with  a  woman  who  struggles  against  the  tyranny  of  her 
destiny.  You  can  lead  an  army  into  desperate  battle;  you 
can  conquer  provinces,  and  make  thrones  totter  to  their  base, 
but  you  cannot  force  a  woman  to  do  what  she  is  resolved 
against!  You  cannot  break  my  will!  I  repeat  my  oath — I 
swear  I  will  never  marry !  " 

A  cry  of  rage  burst  from  the  lips  of  the  king;  with  a 
hasty  movement  he  advanced  and  seized  the  arm  of  the  prin- 
cess; then,  however,  as  if  ashamed  of  his  impetuosity,  he  re- 
leased her  and  stepped  backward. 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  "  you  will  wed  the  King  of  Den- 
mark. This  is  my  imchangeable  purpose,  my  inexorable 
command!  The  time  of  mourning  for  his  dead  wife  is 
passed;  and  he  has,  through  a  special  ambassador,  renewed 
his  suit  for  your  hand.  I  will  receive  the  ambassador  to- 
morrow morning  in  solemn  audience.  I  will  say  to  him  that 
I  am  ready  to  bestow  the  hand  of  my  sister  upon  the  King 
of  Denmark.  To-morrow  you  will  be  the  bride  and  in  four 
weeks  you  will  be  the  wife  of  the  King  of  Denmark !  " 


474  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOTTCI|  OR, 

"  And  if  I  repeat  to  you,  that  I  will  never  be  his  wife  ?  " 

"  Madame,  when  the  king  commands,  no  one  in  his  realm 
dare  say  *  I  will  not ! '  Farewell — to-morrow  morning, 
then !  "  He  bowed,  left  the  room,  and  closed  the  door  behind 
him. 

Amelia  sighed  heavily,  then  slowly  and  quietly,  even  as 
she  had  come,  she  walked  through  the  corridors,  and  as  she 
passed  by  her  maids  she  greeted  them  with  a  soft  smile. 
Ernestine  wished  to  follow  her  to  her  boudoir,  but  she  nod- 
ded to  her  to  remain  outside;  she  entered  and  closed  the 
door.  She  was  alone;  a  wild  shriek  burst  from  her  lips; 
with  a  despairing  movement  she  raised  her  arms  to  heaven, 
then  sank  powerless,  motionless  to  the  floor. 

How  long  she  lay  there ;  what  martyrdom,  what  tortures 
her  heart  endured  in  those  hours  of  solitude,  who  can  know  ? 
It  was  twilight  when  Princess  Amelia  opened  the  door  and 
bade  her  friend,  Fraulein  von  Haak,  enter. 

"  Oh,  princess,  dearly-beloved  princess,"  she  said,  weep- 
ing bitterly,  pressing  Amelia's  hand  to  her  lips,  "  God  be 
thanked  that  I  see  you  again !  " 

"  Poor  child !  "  said  Amelia,  gently,  "  poor  child !  You 
thought  I  would  destroy  myself!  is  it  not  so,  Ernestine? 
No,  no,  I  must  live!  A  dark  and  sad  foreboding  tells 
rae  that  a  day  will  come  when  Trenck  will  need  me; 
when  my  life,  my  strength,  my  assistance  will  be  nec- 
essary to  him.  I  will  be  strong !  I  will  live,  and  await  that 
day!" 

With  calm  indifference  she  now  began  to  speak  of  tri- 
fling things,  and  listened  kindly  to  all  Ernestine  related. 
There  was,  however,  a  certain  solemnity  in  her  movements, 
in  her  smile,  in  every  word  she  uttered;  her  eyes  turned 
from  time  to  time  with  an  indescribable  expression  to 
heavMi,  and  anxious,  alarmed  sighs  fell  trembling  from  her 
lips. 

At  last  the  long  and  dreary  hours  of  the  evening  were 
over.  It  was  night.  Amelia  could  dismiss  her  maids  and  be 
once  more  alone.  They  brought  the  spirit-lamp,  upon  which 
stood  the  vessel  containing  the  steaming  mixture  for  her 
eyes;  she  directed  them  to  place  it  near,  and  go  quietly  to 
sleep.     She  would  undress  herself  and  read  a  while  before 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    475 

she  went  to  bed.  She  embraced  Fraulein  von  Haak,  and 
charged  her  to  sleep  peacefully. 

"  You  have  promised,"  whispered  Ernestine,  lightly, 
"  you  will  live !  " 

"I  will  live,  for  Trenck  will  one  day  need  me.  Good- 
night!" 

She  kissed  Ernestine  upon  the  brow  and  smiled  upon  her 
till  the  door  closed — then  pressed  the  bolt  forward  hastily, 
and  rushed  forward  to  the  large  mirror,  which  reflected  her 
image  clearly  and  distinctly.  With  a  curious  expression 
she  contemplated  her  still  lovely,  youthful,  and  charming 
image,  and  her  lips  lightly  whispered,  "  Farewell,  thou  whom 
Trenck  loved !  Farewell,  farewell !  "  she  greeted  her  image 
with  a  weary  smile,  then  stepped  firmly  to  the  table,  where 
the  mixture  hissed  and  bubbled,  and  the  dangerous  steam 
ascended. 

The  next  morning  loud  shrieks  and  groans  were  heard  in 
the  bedroom  of  the  princess.  Amelia's  maids  had  come  to 
arrange  her  toilet,  and  found  her  stretched  upon  her  couch, 
with  disfigured  face,  with  bloody  eyes,  which,  swollen  and 
rigid,  appeared  almost  torn  from  their  sockets!  They  ran 
for  the  physician,  for  the  queen,  for  the  king;  all  was  con- 
fusion, excitement,  anguish. 

Ernestine  knelt  weeping  by  the  bed  of  the  princess,  and 
implored  her  to  say  what  frightful  accident  had  so  disfigured 
her.  Princess  Amelia  was  incapable  of  reply!  Her  lips 
were  convulsively  pressed  together;  she  could  only  stammer 
out  a  few  inarticulate  sounds. 

At  last  Meckel  arrived,  and  when  he  saw  the  inflamed, 
swollen  face,  the  eyeballs  starting  from  their  sockets,  and 
then  the  vessel  containing  the  powerful  mixture  upon  the 
table,  he  was  filled  with  horror. 

"  Ah,  the  unhappy !  "  murmured  he ;  "  she  did  not  regard 
my  warning.  She  drew  too  near  the  noxious  vapor,  and  it 
has  entered  not  only  her  eyes  but  her  windpipe;  she  will 
suffer  much,  and  never  be  wholly  restored !  " 

Amelia  understood  these  words,  which  were  addressed  to 
Fraulein  von  Haak,  and  a  horrible  wild  laugh  burst  from  her 
bloody,  skinless  lips. 

"Will  she  recover?"  asked  Fraiilein  von  Haak. 


476  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOCJCI;  OR, 

"  She  will  recover,  but  her  eyes  will  be  always  deformed 
and  her  voice  is  destroyed.  I  will  hasten  to  the  apothecary's 
and  prepare  soothing  ointments." 

He  withdrew,  and  now  another  door  opened,  and  the 
king  entered.  With  hasty  steps,  and  greatly  excited,  he 
drew  near  the  bed  of  the  princess.  As  he  looked  upon  her 
deformed  countenance,  her  bleeding,  rigid  eyes,  he  uttered 
a  cry  of  horror,  and  bowed  down  over  his  sister. 

She  gazed  up  at  him  steadily;  tried  to  open  her  lips; 
tried  to  speak,  but  only  a  dull,  hollow  sound  was  heard. 
Now  she  slightly  raised  herself  up  with  a  powerful  effort  of 
strength,  and  moved  her  hand  slowly  over  the  white  wall 
near  her  bed. 

"  She  wishes  to  write,"  said  the  king ;  "  perhaps  she  will 
tell  the  cause  of  her  sufferings.  Give  her  something  quick- 
ly !  there — a  coal  from  the  chimney !  " 

Fraulein  von  Haak  brought  the  coal,  and  Amelia  wrote, 
with  trembling  hand,  in  great,  irregular  letters,  these  words 
upon  the  wall : 

"  Now  I  will  not  wed  the  King  of  Denmark ! — ^now  I 
shall  never  marry ! "  then  fell  back  on  her  pillow  with  a 
hollow  laugh,  which  deformed  her  swollen  and  convulsed 
features  in  a  frightful  manner. 

The  king  sank  on  a  chair  near  the  bed,  and,  clasping  his 
hands  over  his  face,  he  abandoned  himself  to  despair.  He 
saw,  he  comprehended  all !  He  knew  that  she  had  intention- 
ally disfigured  herself ;  that  she  had  offered  up  her  beauty  to 
her  love !  For  this  reason  she  had  so  piteously  pleaded  with 
him! — for  this  reason  had  she  clamored  for  pity! — pity  for 
her  youth,  her  future,  her  life's  happiness!  Love  and  faith 
she  had  offered  up!  Greater,  braver  than  Juliet,  she  had 
not  given  herself  up  to  death,  but  to  deformity!  She  had 
destroyed  her  body,  in  order  to  treasure  love  and  constancy 
in  her  heart  for  her  beloved !  All  this  the  king  knew,  and  a 
profound  and  boundless  sorrow  for  this  young  woman,  so 
strong  in  her  love,  came  over  him.  He  bowed  his  head  and 
wept  bitterly.* 

•  Ln  partie  de  I'histoire  de  la  Princease  Am^lie  qui  a  6t6  la  moins  connue, 
et  sur  laquelle  le  public  a  flott^  entre  des  opinions  plus  diversea  et  moins  ad- 
missibles,  c'est  la  cause  de  sea  infirmites.  Ileureusement  constitude  sans  etre 
grande,  elle  n'aurait  pas  dii  savoir  a  les  craindre,  m^me  dans  un  age  fares- 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    477 
CHAPTER  XL 

BARBARINA. 

The  visit  which  the  proud  wife  of  the  High-Chancellor 
Cocceji  had  made  to  the  still  prouder  dancer,  had  brought 
the  trembling  and  irresolute  heart  of  Barbarina  to  a  con- 
clusion. This  heart,  which  had  not  been  influenced  by  her 
own  wishes  or  the  eloquent  prayers  of  her  young  lover,  was 
wounded  by  the  insane  pride  of  Madame  Cocceji,  and  forced 
to  a  final  resolve.  The  visit  was  unfortunate,  and  its  results 
exactly  the  opposite  of  her  hopes. 

She  had  come  to  prove  to  Barbarina  that  she  should  not 
even  dare  to  think  of  becoming  the  wife  of  her  son.  By  her 
wild  passion  and  abusive  words  she  had  so  exasperated  her, 
that  she  determined  to  do  that  for  revenge  which  she  had 
firmly  refused  to  love.  In  flashing  scorn  she  had  sworn  this 
to  the  proud  wife  of  the  high  chancellor;  and  her  honor  and 
her  pride  demanded  the  fulfilment  of  her  oath. 

avanc6 ;  et  elle  en  a  dt6  atteinte  bien  avant  l'4ge,  qui  peut  les  faire  craindre. 
Encore,  ne  les  a-t-elle  pas  cues  partiellement,  elle  en  a  et6  spontan^ment  ac- 
cabl^e.  II  n'est  pas  douteux  qu'elle  ne  les  ait  cherchees.  J'en  donuerai  pour 
preuve  un  fait  qui  est  certain.  A  une  ^po(}ue  ou  elle  avait  les  yeux  innam- 
mds,  M.  Meckel,  qui  6tait  son  medecin,  lui  ordonna  une  composition  liquide, 
qu'il  fallait  faire  chauffer,  pour  en  faire  parvenir  la  vapeur  jusqu'aux  yeux, 
mais  en  tenant  ce  liquide  aux  moins  k  sept  ou  huit  pouces  de  distance ;  et  lui 
recommenda  bien  de  ne  pas  I'approcher  davantage ;  et,  cependant  d^  qu'elle 
eut  cette  composition,  elle  s'empressa  de  s'en  frotter  les  yeux,  ce  qui  prcniuisit 
im  si  funeste  etfet,  qu'elle  courut  le  plus  grand  danger  de  devenir  aveugle ;  et 
que  depuis  elle  a  toujours  de  les  yeux  k  moitic  sortis  de  leurs  orbites,  et  aussi 
hideux  qu'ils  avaient  ete  beaux  j  usque  Ik.  Frederic,  k  qui  on  n'osa  pas  dire 
combien  la  princesse  avait  de  part  k  cette  accident,  n'a  jamais  eu  depuis 
qu'une  aversion  tres-marqu^e  et  un  vrai  m^pris  pour  M.  Meckel,  que  la  prin- 
ce.s8e  fut  obligee  de  quitter,  et  qui  n'en  ^tait  pas  moins  un  des  meilleurs  m^de- 
cins  de  Berlin,  et  un  des  plus  c^l^bres  anatomistes  de  I'Europe. 

Une  autre  inflrmite  plus  ^tonnante,  encore,  c'est  que  cette  princesse  perdit 
presque  totalemente  la  voix ;  aussi  de  sa  faute  a  ce  qui  I'on  a  prttendu  il  lui 
etait  difficile  de  parler,  et  tres-p6nible  aux  autres  de  I'enlendre.  Sa  voix 
n'6tait  plus  qu'un  son  vague,  sourd  et  s^pulcral,  semblable  a  celui  que  forme 
une  personne  qui  fait  effort  pour  dire  comme  a  voix  basse  qu'elle  etrangle. 

Je  ne  parlerai  pas  de  sa  tete  chancelante  et  se  soutenant  a  peine  de  sea 
iambes,  pour  lesquelles  son  corps  appauvri  4tait  un  poids  si  lourd  de  sea 
nras :  et  de  ses  mains  plus  d'k  moitie  paralyse ;  mais  quels  pui.ssants  motifs 
ont  pu  amener  cette  belle  et  aimable  princesse  k  se  faire  elle-menie  un  sort  si 
triste?  Quelle  philosophie  a  pu  lui  donner  assez  de  force  pour  le  supporter, 
et  ne  pas  s'en  plaindre  I  quelle  Anergic  tous  ces  fails  ne  prouvent-ils  paa  ?^ 
Thi^bault,  u.,  287-289. 


478  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;  OE, 

And  now  a  fierce  contest  commenced  between  them — 
carried  on  by  both  parties  with  bitterness  and  energy.  The 
high  chancellor  threatened  his  son  with  his  curse.  He  sol- 
emnly declared  he  would  disinherit  him.  Cocceji  only 
loved  the  Barbarina  the  more  glowingly;  and,  as  his  mother 
spoke  to  him  of  the  dancer,  and  uttered  passionate  and 
abusive  words,  he  replied  respectfully  but  decisively  that  he 
would  not  listen  to  such  accusations  against  the  woman  who 
was  to  be  his  wife,  and  must  forbid  them  positively. 
Madame  Cocceji  was  beside  herself  with  rage;  by  her  pray- 
ers and  persuasions,  she  induced  her  husband  to  take  refuge 
in  the  last  and  most  violent  resource  that  remained — in  the 
power  of  arrest  which  the  king  had  granted  him.  He  re- 
solved to  confine  his  son  in  the  castle  of  Mt.  Landsberg,  and 
thus  break  the  magical  bands  of  Ariadne. 

One  day,  the  Councillor  Cocceji  did  not  appear  in  the 
halls  of  justice,  and  no  one  knew  what  had  become  of  him. 
The  servants  stated  that  a  carriage  stopped  at  his  dwelling 
in  the  middle  of  the  night;  that  General  Haak  with  two 
soldiers  entered  Cocceji's  room,  and  remained  with  him 
some  time.  They  had  then  all  entered  the  general's  carriage, 
and  driven  away. 

Cocceji  had,  however,  found  a  secret  opportunity  to  slip 
a  piece  of  paper  into  the  servant's  hand,  and  to  whisper, 
"  Quick,  to  the  signora !  " 

The  faithful  servant  obeyed  this  order.  The  paper  con- 
tained only  these  words :  "  I  am  arrested ;  make  all  necessary 
preparations;  expect  me  daily.  As  soon  as  I  am  free,  our 
marriage  will  take  place." 

Barbarina  made  her  preparations.  She  undertook  fre- 
quently little  journeys,  and  sometimes  remained  away  from 
Berlin  several  days.  She  bought  a  costly  and  beautiful 
house,  to  prove  to  the  wife  of  the  chancellor  that  she  had 
no  thought  of  leaving  Berlin  and  returning  to  Italy. 

Some  months  went  by.  The  king,  who  had  yielded  to 
the  prayers  of  the  Coccejis,  and  allowed  them  to  arrest  their 
son,  would  not  consent  to  his  longer  confinement.  He  had 
no  trial;  had  committed  no  offence  against  the  laws  or  the 
king;  was  guilty  of  no  other  crime  than  wishing  to  marry 
the  woman  he  loved. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    479 

So  the  young  councillor  was  released  from  the  castle  of 
Landsberg.  He  returned  to  Berlin;  and  his  first  visit  was 
not  to  his  parents,  but  to  Barbarina,  who  received  him  in 
her  new  house  in  Behren  Street. 

A  few  hours  later,  a  carriage  stood  before  the  door,  which 
Barbarina,  accompanied  by  her  sister  and  Cocceji,  entered, 

I'  and  drove  rapidly  away.  I^o  one  knew  where  they  went. 
Even  the  spies  of  the  Coccejis,  who  continually  watched  the 
house  of  the  dancer,  could  learn  nothing  from  the  servants 
who  were  left  behind.  A  few  days  after,  they  brought  the 
intelligence  that  Barbarina  had  returned ;  and  the  councillor 
dwelt  with  her  in  her  new  house;  and  the  servants  were 
commanded  to  call  the  signora  Madame  Cocceji,  as  she  was 
his  well-beloved  and  trusted  wife. 

The  wife  of  the  high  chancellor  laughed  contemptuously 
at  this  narrative,  and  declared  it  to  be  only  a  coup  de  theatre. 
Suddenly  an  equipage  drove  to  the  door.  Somewhat  curious, 
Madame  Cocceji  stepped  to  the  window;  she  saw  that  the 
coachman  and  footmen  were  dressed  in  liveries  glittering 
with  gold,  and  that  the  panels  of  the  carriage  were  orna- 
mented with  the  Cocceji  coat-of-arms. 

The  Signora  Barbarina  was  to  be  seen  at  the  window. 
Horrified,  the  wife  of  the  chancellor  stepped  back ;  a  servant 
entered  with  a  card,  which  he  handed  her  respectfully. 

"  I  am  not  at  home ;  I  receive  no  visits !  "  cried  she,  after 
looking  at  the  card.  The  servant  retired,  and  the  carriage 
rolled  away. 

"  Yes,  it  is  true.  She  has  triumphed ! "  groaned  the 
countess,  still  gazing  at  the  card,  which  had  these  words: 
"  Monsieur  de  Cocceji  and  Madame  de  Cocceji,  7iee  Barba- 
rina."— "  But  she  shall  not  succeed ;  the  Barbarina  shall 
never  be  called  my  daughter;  this  marriage  shall  be  set  aside, 
the  ceremony  was  not  lawful,  it  is  contrary  to  the  laws  of  the 
land.  Barbarina  is  a  hourgeoise,  and  cannot  wed  a  noble 
without  the  express  consent  of  the  king.  I  will  throw  myself 
at  the  feet  of  his  majesty  and  implore  him  to  annul  this  mar- 


riage 


f » 


Frederick  was  much  exasperated,  and  inclined  to  yield  to 
the  entreaties  of  his  high  chancellor.  A  short  time  before, 
he  had  commanded  the  Catholic  clergy  not  to  perform  any 


480-  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI:  OR, 

marriage  ceremony  without  special  permission  and  legitima- 
tion; and  his  anger  was  aroused  at  their  daring  to  disobey 
him,  and  in  secrecy  and  silence  to  marry  Barbarina  and 
Cocceji. 

He  commanded  his  cabinet  minister  Uhden  to  ascertain 
by  what  right  the  dancer  Barbarina  dared  to  call  herself 
Madame  Cocceji,  and,  if  she  could  establish  her  claim,  he 
wished  to  be  informed  what  priest  had  dared  to  bless  the 
holy  banns.     He  was  resolved  to  punish  him  severely. 

The  minister  Uhden  was  a  warm  personal  friend  of  the 
high  chancellor,  and  more  than  willing,  therefore,  to  carry 
out  sternly  the  king's  commands.  The  next  day  he  ordered 
Barbarina  to  appear  before  him,  stating  that  he  had  the 
king's  permission  to  pronounce  judgment  upon  her. 

When  Barbarina  read  this  order,  she  was  lost  in  painful 
silence,  and  a  profound  melancholy  was  written  upon  her 
pale  face. 

"  What  will  you  do,  sister  ?  "  said  Marietta. 

"  I  will  go  to  the  king !  "  replied  Barbarina,  rousing  her- 
self. 

"  But  the  king  is  at  Potsdam." 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  go  to  Potsdam.  Order  my  carriage ; 
I  must  go  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"What  shall  I  say  to  your  husband  when  he  returns 
home  ? " 

Barbarina  looked  at  her  steadily.  "  Tell  him  that 
Madame  Cocceji  has  gone  to  Potsdam,  to  announce  her  mar- 
riage to  the  king,  and  ask  him  to  acknowledge  it." 

"  Barbarina,"  whispered  her  sister,  "  hear  me !  Your 
husband  is  troubled  and  sorrowful;  he  has  confided  in  me. 
He  says  he  fears  you  did  not  marry  him  from  love,  but  for 
revenge,  and  that  you  love  him  not," 

"  I  am  resolved  to  love  him !  I  will  learn  how,"  said  she, 
sadly.     "  I  have  a  strong  will,  and  my  heart  shall  obey  me !  " 

She  smiled,  but  her  lovely  face  was  overcast  with  grief, 
and  Marietta's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

Frederick  was  alone  in  his  study  in  the  castle  of  Pots- 
dam; he  was  busily  engaged  in  writing.  The  door  was 
lightly  opened,  and  the  Marquis  d'Argens  looked  in.  When 
he  saw  that  the  king  had  heard  nothing,  he  beckoned  to  a 


FREDERICK   THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.   481 

lady  who  stood  behind  him  to  draw  near.  She  entered  the 
room  silently  and  noiselessly;  the  marquis  bowed  to  her, 
and,  smiling  kindly,  he  stepped  back  and  closed  the  door. 

The  lady,  who  up  to  this  time  had  closely  concealed  her 
features,  now  threw  back  her  veil,  and  exposed  the  pale  but 
lovely  countenance  and  flashing  eyes  of  Barbarina.  She 
gazed  at  the  king  with  a  mingled  expression  of  happiness 
and  pain. 

The  king  still  heard  nothing.  Suddenly  he  was  aroused 
by  a  low  sigh ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  a  soft,  sweet,  long-silent 
voice  whispered  his  name.  He  rose  hastily  and  turned; 
Barbarina  was  kneeling  at  the  door;  it  was  that  door  before 
which,  five  years  ago,  she  had  kneeled  bathed  in  tears  and 
wild  with  despair.  She  was  now,  as  then,  upon  her  knees, 
weeping  bitterly,  and  raising  her  hands  importunately  to  the 
king,  pleading  for  grace  and  pity. 

Frederick  was  at  first  pallid  from  surprise,  and  a  frown 
was  on  his  brow;  but,  as  he  looked  upon  her,  and  saw  once 
more  those  great,  dark,  unfathomable  eyes,  a  painful  but 
sweet  emotion  overcame  him;  the  cloud  was  lifted  up,  his 
countenance  was  illuminated  and  his  eyes  were  soft  and 
misty. 

With  a  kindly  smile  he  drew  near  to  Barbarina.  "  Rise," 
said  he,  and  the  tones  of  his  voice  made  her  heart  beat  wild- 
ly, and  brought  fresh  tears  to  her  eyes.  "  You  come  strange- 
ly and  unexpectedly,  Barbarina,  but  you  come  with  a  beauti- 
ful retinue,  with  a  crowd  of  sweet,  fond  remembrances — and 
I — of  whom  men  say,  *  He  has  no  religion ' — have  at  least 
the  religion  of  memory.  I  cannot  be  angry  with  you,  Barba- 
rina; rise,  and  tell  me  why  you  are  here." 

He  bowed,  and  took  her  by  the  hands  and  raised  her; 
and  now,  as  she  stood  near  him,  lovely  as  ever,  her  great 
eyes  glowing  with  warmth  and  passion,  intoxicating  the 
senses  with  her  odorous  beauty,  the  king  felt  anguish  in  his 
heart  which  he  had  no  words  to  express. 

They  stood  silently,  side  by  side,  their  eyes  fixed  upon 
each  other,  Frederick  holding  Barbarina's  hand  in  his;  they 
seemed  to  be  whispering  mysterious  fairy  tales  to  each 
other's  hearts. 

"  I  see  you,  surrounded  by  smiling,  sacred  genii,"  at  lasl^ 


482  Berlin  and  sans-souci:  oe, 

said  Frederick,  "  These  are  the  genii  of  the  rosy  hours 
which  have  been.  Ah,  Barbarina,  thus  attended,  your  face 
seems  to  me  as  the  face  of  an  angel.  Why  were  you  not  an 
angel,  Barbarina  ?  Why  were  you  only  a  woman — a  passion- 
ate woman,  who,  not  satisfied  with  loving  and  being  loved, 
wished  also  to  govern;  who  was  not  content  to  be  wor- 
shipped by  the  man,  but  wished  to  subject  the  king,  whom 
you  thus  forced  to  forget  his  humanity,  to  trample  ui>on  and 
torture  his  own  heart  in  order  to  remain  king?  Oh,  Barba- 
rina, why  were  you  this  proud,  exacting  woman,  rather  than 
the  angel  which  you  now  truly  are  ? " 

She  raised  her  hands,  as  if  imploring  him  to  be  silent. 
*'  I  understand  all  that  now,  I  have  thought  of  it,  night  and 
day;  I  know  and  I  confess  that  you  acted  right,  sire.  And 
now  I  am  no  longer  an  imperious  woman,  but  a  humiliated 
one !  In  my  helplessness,  with  my  pride  subdued,  I  come 
to  you !  I  come  to  you,  sire,  as  one  goes  to  God,  weary  and 
heavy  laden.  I  come  to  you,  as  a  poor  sinner  goes  into  God's 
holy  temple,  to  confess  his  sins;  to  have  his  burden  light- 
ened; to  pray  for  help  that  he  may  subdue  his  own  heart! 
Oh,  sire,  this  is  a  sacred,  consecrated  hour  for  me,  and  "what 
I  now  say  to  you,  only  God  and  yourself  may  hear !  " 

"  Speak,  Barbarina,  and  may  God  hear  and  answer ! " 

"  Sire,  I  come  for  help !  " 

"  Ah,  for  help !  "  exclaimed  fhe  king,  and  a  mocking  ex- 
pression played  upon  his  lips.  "  I  had  forgotten.  You  wish 
to  be  called  Madame  Cocoeji  ?  " 

"  I  am  called  thus,  sire,"  said  she,  softly ;  "  but  they  are 
about  to  declare  my  marriage  illegal,  and  by  the  power  of  the 
law  to  set  it  aside." 

"  And  for  this  reason  you  cotae  to  me  ? "  said  the  king. 
"  You  fear  f o^  your  beautiful  title  ?  " 

"  Ah,  sire,  you  do  not  think  so  pitifully  of  me  as  to  sup- 
pose I  care  for  a  title  ?  " 

"You  married  the  -Councillor  Cocceji,  then,  from  love?" 
said  the  king. 

Barbarina  looked  at  the  king  steadily.  "  N"o,  sire,  I  did 
not  marry  him  for  love." 

"  Why,  then,  did  you  marry  him  ?  " 

"To  save  myself,  sire — ^to  save  myself,  and  because  I 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     483 

could  not  learn  to  forget.  Your  majesty  has  just  said  that 
you  have  the  religion  of  memory.  Sire,  I  am  the  anguish- 
stricken,  tortured,  fanatical  priestess  of  the  same  faith.  I  have 
lain  daily  before  her  altar,  I  have  scourged  my  heart  with 
remembrances,  and  blinded  my  eyes  with  weeping.  At  last 
a  day  came  in  which  I  roused  myself.  I  resolved  to  abaudou| 
my  altar,  to  flee  from  the  past,  and  teach  my  heart  to  forget. 
I  went  to  England,  accepted  Lord  Stuart's  proposals,  and 
resolved  to  be  his  wife.  It  was  in  vain,  wholly  in  vain. 
Whatsoever  my  trembling  lips  might  say,  my  heart  lay  ever 
bleeding  before  the  altar  of  my  memory.  The  past  followed 
me  over  the  wide  seas,  she  beckoned  and  greeted  me  with 
mysterious  sighs  and  pleadings;  she  called  out  to  me,  with 
two  great,  wondrous  eyes,  clear  and  blue  as  the  heavens, 
unfathomable  as  the  sea!  These  eyes,  sire,  called  me  back, 
and  I  could  not  resist  them.  I  felt  that  I  would  rather  die 
by  them  than  relinquish  them  forever.  So,  on  my  wedding- 
day,  I  fled  from  England,  and  returned  to  Berlin.  The  old 
magic  came  over  me ;  also,  alas !  the  old  grief.  I  felt  that  I 
must  do  something  to  save  myself,  if  I  would  not  go  mad. 
I  resolved  to  bind  my  wayward  heart  in  chains,  to  make 
my  love  a  prisoner  to  duty,  and  silence  the  outcries  of  my 
soul!  But  I  still  wavered.  Then  came  Madame  Cocceji. 
By  her  insolent  bearing  she  roused  my  pride,  until  it  over- 
shadowed even  my  despair,  and  I  heard  no  other  voice.  So, 
sire,  I  married  Cocceji!  I  have  taken  refuge  in  this  mar- 
riage, as  in  a  safe  haven,  where  I  shall  rest  peacefully  and 
fear  no  storm. 

"But,  my  king,  struggle  as  I  may  to  begin  a  new  life, 
the  religion  of  memory  will  not  relinquish  her  priestess; 
she  extends  her  mystical  hands  over  me,  and  my  poor  heart 
shouts  back  to  her  against  my  will.  Sire,  save  me  1  I  have 
fled  to  this  marriage  as  one  flies  to  a  cloister-cell,  to  escape 
the  sweet  love  of  this  world.  Oh,  sire,  do  not  allow  them  to 
drive  me  from  this  refuge ;  leave  me  in  peace  to  God  and  my 
duty!  Alas!  my  soul  has  repented,  she  lies  wearied  and  ill 
at  your  feet.    Help  her,  heal  her,  I  implore  you !  " 

She  was  silent.     She   extended   her  hands   toward  the 
king.    He  looked  at  her  sadly,  kindly  took  her  hands  in  his, 
and  pressed  hi?  lips  upon  them. 
31 


484  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI:  OR, 

"  Barbarina,"  said  he,  in  a  rich,  mellow  voice — "  Barba- 
rina,  I  thank  you.  God  and  the  king  have  heard  you.  You 
say  that  you  are  the  priestess  of  the  religion  of  remem- 
brance ^  well,  then,  I  am  her  priest,  and  I  confess  to  you 
that  I,  also,  have  passed  many  nights  in  anguish  be- 
fore her  altar.  Life  demands  heavy  sacrifices,  and  more 
from  kings  than  from  other  men.  Once  in  my  life  I  made 
so  rich  an  offering  to  my  royalty  that  it  seemed  life  could 
have  no  more  of  bitterness  in  store.  The  thoughtless  and 
fools  consider  life  a  pleasure.  But  I,  Barbarina,  I  say,  that 
life  is  a  duty.     Let  us  fulfil  our  duties." 

"  Yes,  we  will  go  and  fulfil  them,"  said  she,  with  flashing 
eyes.  "  Sire,  I  will  go  to  fulfil  mine ;  but  I  am  weak,  and 
have  yet  one  more  favor  to  ask.  There  is  no  cup  of  Lethe 
from  which  men  drink  forgetfulness,  and  yet  I  must  forget. 
I  must  cast  a  veil  over  the  past.  Help  me,  sire — I  must 
leave  Berlin!  Banish  my  husband  to  another  city.  It  will 
be  an  open  grave  for  me;  but  I  will  struggle  to  plant  that 
grave  with  flowers,  whose  beauty  and  perfume  shall  rejoice 
and  make  glad  the  heart  of  my  husband !  " 

"  I  grant  your  request,"  said  the  king,  sadly. 

"  I  thank  you,  sire ;  and  now,  farewell !  " 

"  Farewell,  Barbarina !  " 

He  took  again  her  hands  in  his,  and  looked  long  into  her 
fair,  enchanting  face,  now  glowing  with  enthusiasm.  Neither 
spoke  one  word;  they  took  leave  of  each  other  with  soft 
glances  and  melancholy  sighs. 

"  Farewell,  sire !  "  said  Barbarina,  after  a  long  pause, 
withdrawing  her  hands  from  the  king's  and  stepping  toward 
the  door.     The  king  followed  her. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,"  said  he,  "  I  will  go  with  you!  " 

Frederick  led  her  into  the  adjoining  room,  in  which  there 
were  two  doors.  One  led  to  a  small  stairway,  which  opened 
upon  a  side-door  of  the  castle ;  the  other  to  the  great  saloon, 
in  which  the  cavaliers  and  followers  of  the  king  were  wont 
to  assemble. 

Barbarina  had  entered  by  the  small  stairway,  and  now 
turned  her  steps  in  that  direction.  "  N"o,  not  that  way,"  said 
Frederick.  "  My  staff  await  me  in  the  saloon.  It  is  the 
hour  for  parade,    I  will  show  you  my  court." 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    ^85 

Barbarina  thanked  him,  and  followed  silently  to  the 
other  door.  The  generals,  in  their  glittering  uniforms,  and 
the  cavaliers,  with  their  embroidered  vests  and  brilliant 
orders,  bowed  profoundly,  and  no  one  dared  to  manifest  the 
surprise  he  felt  as  the  king  and  Barbarina  entered. 

Frederick  led  Barbarina  into  the  middle  of  the  saloon, 
and  letting  go  her  hand,  he  said  aloud :  "  Madame,  I  have  the 
honor  to  commend  myself  to  you.  Your  wish  shall  be  ful- 
filled. Your  husband  shall  be  President  of  Glogau !  it  shall 
be  arranged  to-day."  The  king  cast  a  proud  and  searching 
glance  around  the  circle  of  his  cavaliers,  until  they  rested 
upon  the  master  of  ceremonies.  "  Baron  Pollnitz,  conduct 
Madame  Presidentess  Cocceji  to  her  carriage." 

Pollnitz  stumbled  forward  and  placed  himself  with  a 
profound  salutation  at  Barbarina's  side. 

Frederick  bowed  once  more  to  Barbarina;  she  took  the 
arm  of  Baron  Pollnitz.  Silence  reigned  in  the  saloon  as 
Barbarina  withdrew. 

The  king  gazed  after  her  till  she  had  entirely  disap- 
peared; then,  breathing  heavily,  he  turned  to  his  generals 
and  said :  "  Messieurs,  it  is  time  for  parade." 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

INTRIGUES. 

Voltaire  was  faithful  to  his  purpose:  he  made  use  of 
his  residence  in  Prussia  and  the  favor  of  the  king  to  in- 
crease his  fortune,  and  to  injure  and  degrade,  as  far  as 
possible,  all  those  for  whom  the  king  manifested  the  slight- 
est partiality.  He  not  only  added  to  his  riches  by  the  most 
abject  niggardliness  in  his  mode  of  life,  thereby  adding  his 
pension  to  his  capital,  but  by  speculation  in  Saxon  bonds, 
for  which,  in  the  beginning,  he  employed  the  aid  of  the  Jew 
Hirsch.  We  have  seen  that  he  sent  him  to  Dresden  to  pur- 
chase eighteen  thousand  thalers'  worth  of  bonds,  and  gave 
him  three  drafts  for  that  purpose. 


4:86  BERLIN  AND  SAKS-SOUCI ;  OR, 

One  of  these  was  drawn  upon  the  banker  Ephraim.  He 
thus  learned  of  Voltaire's  speculation,  and,  as  a  cunning 
trafficker,  he  resolved  to  turn  this  knowledge  to  his  own  ad- 
vantage. He  went  to  Voltaire,  and  proposed  to  give  him 
twenty  thousand  thalers'  worth  of  Saxon  bonds,  and  demand 
no  payment  for  them  till  Voltaire  should  receive  their  full 
value  from  Dresden.  The  only  profit  he  desired  was  Vol- 
taire's good  word  and  influence  for  him  with  the  king. 

This  was  a  most  profitable  investment,  and  the  great 
French  writer  could  not  resist  it.  He  took  the  bonds; 
promised  his  protection  and  favor,  and  immediately  sent 
to  Paris  to  protest  the  draft  he  had  given  the  Jew  Hirsch. 

Poor  Hirsch  had  already  bought  the  bonds  in  Dresden, 
and  he  was  now  placed  in  the  most  extreme  embarrassment, 
not  only  by  the  protested  draft,  but  by  Voltaire's  refusing  to 
receive  the  bonds  and  to  pay  for  them. 

Voltaire  tried  to  appease  him;  promised  to  repair  his 
loss,  and  yet  further  to  indemnify  him.  He  declared  he 
would  purchase  some  of  the  diamonds  left  in  his  care  by 
Hirsch,  and  he  really  did  this;  he  bought  three  thousand 
thalers'  worth  of  diamonds  and  returned  the  rest  to  Hirsch. 
A  few  days  after  he  sent  to  him  for  a  diamond  cross  and  a 
few  rings  which  he  proposed  to  buy.  Hirsch  sent  them,  and 
not  hearing  from  either  the  diamonds  or  the  money,  he  went 
to  Voltaire  to  get  either  the  one  or  the  other. 

Voltaire  received  him  furiously;  declared  that  the  dia- 
monds which  he  had  purchased  were  false,  and  in  order  to 
reimburse  himself  he  had  retained  the  others  and  would 
never  return  them!  In  wild  rage  he  continued  to  raise  his 
doubled  fist  to  heaven  in  condemnation,  or  held  it  under 
the  nose  of  the  poor  terrified  Jew;  and  to  crown  all,  he  tore 
from  his  finger  another  diamond  ring,  and  pushed  him  from 
the  door. 

And  now  the  Jew  indeed  was  to  be  pitied.  He  demanded 
of  the  courts  the  restoration  of  his  diamonds,  and  payment 
for  the  Saxon  bonds. 

A  wearisome  and  vexatious  process  was  the  result.  Vol- 
taire's plots  and  intrigues  involved  the  case  more  and  more, 
and  he  brought  the  judges  themselves  almost  to  despair. 
Voltaire  declared  that  the  Jew  had  sold  him  false  diamonds. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    487 

The  Jew  asserted  that  the  false  diamonds  exhibited  by  Vol- 
taire were  not  those  Voltaire  had  purchased  of  him,  and 
which  the  jeweller  Reclam  had  valued.  No  one  was  present 
at  this  trade,  so  there  were  no  witnesses.  The  judges  were, 
therefore,  obliged  to  confine  themselves  to  administering  the 
oath  to  Voltaire,  as  he  would  not  consent  to  any  compromise. 
But  he  resisted  the  taking  of  the  oath  also. 

"  What !  "  said  he,  "  I  must  swear  upon  the  Bible ;  upon 
this  book  written  in  such  wretched  Latin !  If  it  were  Homer 
or  Virgil,  I  would  have  nothing  against  it." 

When  the  judge  assured  him,  that  if  he  refused  the  oath, 
they  would  administer  it  to  the  Jew,  he  exclaimed :  "  What ! 
you  will  allow  the  oath  of  this  miserable  creature,  who  cruci- 
fied the  Saviour,  to  decide  this  question  ?  " 

He  took  the  oath  at  last,  and  as  the  Jew  Ephraim  swore 
at  the  same  time  that  Voltaire  had  shown  him  the  diamonds, 
and  he  had  at  once  declared  them  to  be  false,  the  Jew  Hirsch 
lost  his  case,  and  Voltaire  triumphed.  He  wrote  the  follow- 
ing letter  to  Algarotti : 

"  If  one  had  listened  to  my  envious  enemies,  they  would 
have  heard  that  I  was  about  to  lose  a  great  process,  and  that 
I  had  defrauded  an  honest  Jewish  banker.  The  king,  who 
naturally  takes  the  part  of  the  Old  Testament,  would  have 
looked  upon  me  with  disfavor.  I  should  have  been  lost, 
and  Freron  would  have  derisively  declared  that  I  sickened 
and  died  of  rage.  Instead  of  this,  I  still  live;  and  during 
my  last  illness  the  king  manifested  such  warm  and  affection- 
ate interest  in  me,  that  I  should  be  the  most  ungrateful  of 
men  if  I  do  not  remain  a  few  months  longer  with  him !  I  am 
the  only  animal  of  my  race  whom  he  has  ever  lodged  in  his 
castle  in  Berlin ;  and  when  he  left  for  Potsdam,  and  I  could 
not  follow  him,  his  equipage,  cooks,  etc.,  remained  for  my 
use.  He  had  my  furniture  and  other  effects  removed  to  a 
beautiful  country-seat  near  Sans-Souci,  which  was,  for  the 
time  being,  mine.  Besides  this,  a  lodging  was  reserved  for 
me  at  Potsdam,  where  I  slept  a  part  of  every  week.  In 
short,  if  I  were  not  three  hundred  leagues  away  from  you, 
whom  I  love  so  tenderly,  and  if  I  were  in  good  health,  I 
would  be  the  happiest  of  men!  I  ask  pardon,  therefore,  of 
my  enemies;  these  men  of  small  wit;  these  sly  foxes,  who 


488  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI :  OR, 

cry  out  because  I  have  a  pension  of  twenty  thousand  francs, 
and  they  have  nothing!  I  wear  a  golden  cross  on  my  breast, 
while  they  have  not  even  a  handkerchief  in  their  pockets. 
I  wear  a  great  blue  cross,  set  round  with  diamonds,  around 
my  neck ;  for  this  they  would  strangle  me.  These  miserable 
creatures  ought  to  know  that  I  would  cheerfully  give  up  the 
cross,  the  key,  the  pension;  these  things  would  cost  me  no 
regret,  but  I  am  bound  and  attached  to  this  great  man,  who 
in  all  things  strives  to  promote  my  welfare."  * 

But  this  paradise  of  bliss,  so  extravagantly  praised  by 
Voltaire,  was  not  entirely  without  clouds,  and  some  fierce 
storms  had  been  necessary  to  clear  the  atmosphere. 

The  king  was  very  angry  with  Voltaire,  and  wrote  the 
following  letter  to  him  from  Potsdam : 

"  I  knew  how  to  maintain  peace  in  my  house  till  your 
arrival;  and  I  must  confess  to  you,  that  if  you  continue  to 
intrigue  and  cabal,  you  will  be  no  longer  welcome.  I  prefer 
kind  and  gentle  people,  who  are  not  passionate  and  tragic 
in  their  daily  life.  In  case  you  should  resolve  to  live  as  a 
philosopher,  I  will  rejoice  to  see  you!  But  if  you  give  full 
sway  to  your  passion  and  are  hot-brained  with  everybody, 
you  will  do  better  to  remain  in  Berlin.  Your  arrival  in 
Potsdam  will  give  me  no  pleasure."  t 

Only  after  Voltaire  had  solemnly  sworn  to  preserve  the 
peace,  was  he  allowed  to  return  to  Potsdam.  Keeping  the 
peace  was  not,  however,  in  harmony  with  Voltaire's  charac- 
ter; plotting  was  a  necessity  with  him;  he  could  not  re- 
sist it. 

After  he  had  succeeded  in  setting  Arnaud  aside  and  com- 
pelling him  to  leave  Berlin,  he  turned  his  rage  and  sarcasm 
against  the  other  friends  of  the  king.  One  of  them  was 
removed  by  death.  This  was  La  Mettrie ;  he  partook  immod- 
erately of  a  trtiffle-pie  at  the  house  of  the  French  ambassador. 
Lord  Tyrconnel,  and  died  in  consequence  of  a  blood-letting, 
which  he  ordered  himself,  in  opposition  to  the  opinion  of  his 
physician.  He  laughingly  said,  "  I  will  accustom  my  indi- 
gestion to  blood-letting."  He  died  at  the  first  experiment. 
His  death  was  in  harmony  with  his  life  and  his  priuciples, 

*  Voltalrt,  (EuvMi,  p.  Hi. 
t  (Swm  Poa^^moi.  |).  88li 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    489 

lie  dismissed  the  priest  rudely  who  came  to  him  uncalled, 
and  entreated  him  to  be  reconciled  to  God.  Convulsed  by 
his  last  agonies,  he  called  out,  "  O  my  God !  O  Jesus  Ma- 
ria!" 

"  He  repents !  "  cried  the  delighted  priest ;  "  he  calls 
upon  God  and  His  blessed  Son." 

"  No,  no,  no,  father !  "  stammered  La  Mettrie,  with  dying 
lips;  "that  was  only  a  form  of  speech."* 

Voltaire's  envy  and  jealousy  were  now  turned  against  the 
Marquis  d'Argens,  who  was  indeed  the  dearest  friend  of  the 
king.  At  first  he  tried  to  prejudice  the  king  against  him; 
he  betrayed  to  him  that  the  marquis  had  privately  married 
the  actress  Barbe  Cochois. 

The  king  was  at  the  moment  very  angry,  but  the  prayers 
of  Algarotti,  and  the  regret  of  the  poor  marquis,  reconciled 
him  at  last;  he  not  only  forgave,  but  he  allowed  the  mar- 
quise to  dwell  at  Sans-Souci  with  her  husband. 

When  Voltaire  found  that  he  could  not  deprive  the  mar- 
quis of  the  king's  favor,  he  resolved  to  occasion  him  some 
trouble,  and  to  wound  his  vanity  and  sensibility.  He  knew 
that  the  marquis  was  an  ardent  admirer  of  the  French  writer 
Jean  Baptiste  Rousseau.  One  day  Voltaire  entered  the 
room  of  the  marquis,  and  said,  in  a  sad,  sympathetic  tone, 
that  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  undeceive  him  as  to  Jean  Baptiste 
Rousseau,  to  prove  to  him  that  his  love  and  respect  for  the 
great  writer  were  returned  with  the  blackest  ingratitude. 
He  had  just  received  from  his  correspondent  at  Paris  an 
epigram  which  Rousseau  had  made  upon  the  marquis.  It 
was  true  the  epigram  was  only  handed  about  in  manuscript, 
and  Rousseau  swore  every  one  who  read  it  not  to  betray  him ; 
he  was  showing  it,  however,  and  it  was  thought  it  would  be 
published.  He,  Voltaire,  had  commissioned  his  correspon- 
dent to  do  every  thing  in  his  power  to  prevent  the  publication 
of  this  epigram;  or,  if  this  took  place,  to  use  every  means  to 
excite  the  public,  as  well  as  the  friends  of  the  marquis, 
against  Rousseau,  because  of  his  shameful  treachery. 

At  all  events,  this  epigram,  which  Voltaire  now  read  aloud 
to  the  marquis,  and  which  described  him  as  the  Wandering 
Jew,  was  as  malicious  as  it  was  mischievous  and  slanderous. 
*  Nicolai,  p.  20. 


4:90  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI ;   OR, 

The  good  marquis  was  deeply  wounded,  and  swore  to  take  a 
great  revenge  on  Rousseau.     Voltaire  triumphed. 

But,  after  a  few  days,  he  suspected  that  the  whole  was  an 
artifice  of  Voltaire.  In  accordance  with  his  open,  noble 
character,  he  wrote  immediately  to  Kousseau,  made  his  com- 
plaint, and  asked  if  he  had  written  the  epigram. 

-  Rousseau  swore  that  he  was  not  the  author,  but  he  was 
persuaded  that  Voltaire  had  written  it;  he  had  sent  some 
copies  to  Paris,  and  his  friends  were  seeking  to  spread  it 
abroad.* 

The  marquis  was  on  his  guard,  and  did  not  communicate 
this  news  to  Voltaire.  He  resolved  to  escape  from  these 
assaults  and  intrigues  quietly;  with  his  young  wife  he 
made  a  journey  to  Paris,  and  did  not  return  till  Voltaire 
had  left  Berlin  forever. 

The  most  powerful  and  therefore  the  most  abhorred  of 
the  enemies  against  whom  Voltaire  now  turned  in  his  rage, 
was  the  president  of  the  Berlin  Academy,  Maupertius.  Vol- 
taire could  never  forgive  him  for  daring  to  shine  in  his 
presence;  for  being  the  president  of  an  academy  of  which 
he,  Voltaire,  was  only  a  simple  member.  Above  all  this, 
the  king  loved  him,  and  praised  his  extraordinary  talent  and 
scholarship.  Voltaire  only  watched  for  an  opportunity  to 
clutch  this  dangerous  enemy,  and  the  occasion  soon  pre- 
sented itself. 

Maupertius  had  just  published  his  "  Lettres  Philoso- 
phiques,^'  in  which  it  must  be  confessed  there  were  passages 
which  justified  Voltaire's  assertion  that  Maupertius  was  at 
one  time  insane,  and  was  confined  for  some  years  in  a  mad- 
house at  Montpellier.  Maupertius  proposed  in  these  letters 
that  a  Latin  city  should  be  built,  and  this  majestic  and  beau- 
tiful tongue  brought  to  life  again.  He  proposed,  also,  that 
a  hole  should  be  dug  to  the  centre  of  the  earth,  in  order  to 
discover  its  condition  and  quality;  also  that  the  brain  of 
Pythagoras  should  be  searched  for  and  opened,  in  order  to 
ascertain  the  nature  of  the  soul. 

These  ridiculous  and  fabulous  propositions  Voltaire  re- 
plied to  under  the  name  of  Dr.  Akakia;  he  asserted  that  he 
was  only  anxious  to  heal  the  unhappy  Maupertius.     This 
*  Thi^bault. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    49I 

publication  was  written  in  Voltaire's  sharpest  wit  and  his 
most  biting,  glittering  irony,  and  was  calculated  to  make 
Maupertius  absurd  in  the  eyes  of  the  whole  world. 

The  king,  to  whom  Voltaire  had  shown  his  manuscript, 
felt  this ;  and  although  he  had  listened  to  the  "  Akakia " 
with  the  most  lively  pleasure,  and  often  interrupted  the  read- 
ing by  loud  laughter  and  applause,  he  asked  Voltaire  to  de- 
stroy the  manuscript.  He  was  not  willing  that  the  man  who 
stood  at  the  head  of  his  academy,  and  whom  he  had  once 
called  "  the  light  of  science,"  should  be  held  up  to  the  laugh- 
ter and  mockery  of  the  world. 

"  I  ask  this  sacrifice  from  you  as  a  proof  of  your  friend- 
ship for  me,  and  your  self-control,"  said  the  king,  earnestly. 
"I  am  tired  of  this  everlasting  disputing  and  wrangling; 
I  will  have  peace  in  my  house;  I  do  not  know  how  long  we 
will  have  peace  in  the  world.  It  seems  to  me  that  on  the 
horizon  of  politics  heavy  clouds  are  beginning  to  tower  up; 
let  us  therefore  take  care  that  our  li^terary  horizon  is  clear 
and  peaceable." 

"  Ah,  sire ! "  cried  Voltaire,  "  when  you  look  at  me  with 
your  great,  luminous  eyes,  I  feel  capable  of  plucking  my 
heart  from  my  breast  and  casting  it  into  the  fire  for  you. 
How  gladly,  then,  will  I  offer  up  these  stinging  lines  to  a 
wish  of  my  Solomon !  ", 

"  Will  you  indeed  sacrifice  *  Akakia  ? ' "  said  the  king, 
joyfully. 

"  Look  here !  this  is  my  manuscript,  you  know  my  hand- 
writing, you  see  that  the  ink  is  scarcely  dry,  the  work  just 
completed.  Well,  then,  see  now,  sire,  what  I  make  of  the 
*  Akakia.'  "  He  took  the  manuscript  and  cast  it  into  the  fire 
before  which  they  were  both  sitting. 

"  What  are  you  doing  ? "  cried  the  king,  hastily ;  and, 
without  regarding  the  flames,  he  stretched  out  his  hand  to 
seize  the  manuscript. 

Voltaire  laughed  heartily,  seized  the  tongs,  and  pushed 
it  farther  into  the  flames.  "  Sire,  sire,  I  am  the  devil,  and  I 
will  not  allow  my  victim  to  be  torn  from  me.  My  '  Akakia  ' 
was  only  worthy  of  the  lower  regions;  you  condemned  it, 
and  therefore  it  must  suffer.  I,  the  devil,  command  it  to 
bum." 


492  BELLIN   A^^)  SANS-SOUCI:  OR, 

"  But  I,  the  angel  of  mercy,  will  redeem  the  poor  '  Aka- 
kia,' "  cried  the  king,  trying  to  obtain  possession  of  the 
tongs.  "  Truly  this  *  Akakia '  is  too  lusty  and  witty  a  boy  to 
be  laid,  like  the  Emperor  Guatimozin,  upon  the  gridiron. 
It  was  enough  to  deny  him  a  public  exhibition — it  was  not 
necessary  to  destroy  him." 

"  Sire,  I  am  a  poor,  weak  man !  If  I  kept  the  living 
'  Akakia '  by  my  side,  it  would  be  a  poisonous  weapon,  which 
I  would  hurl  one  day  surely  at  the  head  of  Maupertius.  It 
is  therefore  better  it  should  live  only  in  my  remembrance, 
and  be  only  an  imaginary  dagger,  with  which  I  will  some- 
times tickle  the  haughty  lord-president." 

"  And  you  have  really  no  copy  ? "  said  the  king,  whose 
distrust  was  awakened  by  Voltaire's  too  ready  compliance. 
"  Was  this  the  only  manuscript  of  the  '  Akakia? ' " 

"  Sire,  if  you  do  not  believe  my  word,  send  your  servants 
and  let  them  search  my  room.  Here  are  my  keys;  they 
shall  bring  you  every  scrap  of  written  paper;  your  majesty 
ipill  then  be  convinced.  I  entreat  you  to  do  this,  as  you  will 
>ot  believe  my  simple  word." 

The  king  fixed  his  eyes  steadfastly  upon  Voltaire.  "  I  be- 
lieve you.  It  would  be  unworthy  of  you  to  deceive  me, 
and  unworthy  of  me  to  mistrust  you.  I  believe  you;  but  I 
will  make  assurance  doubly  sure.  The  *  Akakia  '  is  no  longer 
upon  paper,  but  it  is  in  your  head,  and  I  fear  your  head 
more  than  I  do  all  the  paper  in  the  world.  Promise  me, 
Voltaire,  that  as  long  as  you  live  with  me  you  will  engage 
in  no  written  strifes  or  controversies — that  you  will  not 
employ  your  bitter  irony  against  the  government,  or  against 
the  authors." 

"  I  promise  that  cheerfully !  " 

"  Will  you  do  so  in  writing  ?  " 

Voltaire  stepped  to  the  table  and  took  the  pen.  "Will 
your  majesty  dictate  ?  " 

The  king  dictated,  and  Voltaire  wrote  with  a  rapid  but 
firm  hand :  "  I  promise  your  majesty  that  so  long  as  you 
allow  me  to  lodge  in  your  castle,  I  will  write  against  no  one, 
neither  against  the  French  government  nor  any  of  the  for- 
eign ambassadors,  nor  the  celebrated  authors.  I  will  con- 
stantly   manifest    a    proper    respect    and    regard    to    them. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    493 

I  will  make  no  improper  use  of  the  letters  of  the  king.  I 
will  in  all  things  bear  myself  as  becomes  an  historian  and  a 
scholar,  who  has  the  honor  to  be  gentleman  in  waiting  to 
the  King  of  Prussia,  and  to  associate  with  distinguished 
persons."  * 

"  Will  you  sign  this  ?  "  said  the  king. 

"  I  will  not  only  sign  it,"  said  Voltaire,  "  but  I  will  add 
something  to  its  force.  Listen,  your  majesty. — I  will  strict- 
ly obey  all  your  majesty's  commands,  and  to  do  so  gives  me 
no  trouble.  I  entreat  your  majesty  to  believe  that  I  never 
have  written  any  thing  against  any  government — least  of  all 
against  that  under  which  I  was  born,  and  which  I  only  left 
because  I  wished  to  close  my  life  at  the  feet  of  your  majesty. 
I  am  historian  of  France.  In  the  discharge  of  this  duty,  I 
have  written  the  history  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth,  and  the 
campaigns  of  Louis  the  Fifteenth.  My  voice  and  my  pen 
were  ever  consecrated  to  my  fatherland,  as  they  are  now  sub- 
ject to  your  command.  I  entreat  you  to  look  into  my  liter- 
ary contest  with  Maupertius,  and  to  believe  that  I  give  it 
up  cheerfully  to  please  you,  sire;  and  because  I  will  in  all 
things  submit  to  your  will.  I  will  also  be  obedient  to  your 
majesty  in  this.  I  will  enter  into  no  literary  contest,  and  I 
beg  you,  sire,  to  believe  that,  in  the  hour  of  death,  I  will  feel 
the  same  reverence  and  attachment  for  you  which  filled  my 
heart  the  day  I  first  appeared  at  your  court.       Voltaire." 

The  king  took  the  paper,  and  read  it  over,  then  fixed  his 
eyes  steadily  upon  Voltaire's  lowering  face.  "  It  is  well !  I 
thank  you,"  said  Frederick,  nodding  a  friendly  dismissal  to 
Voltaire.  He  left  the  room,  and  the  king  looked  after  him 
long  and  thoughtfully. 

"  I  do  not  trust  him ;  he  was  too  ready  to  burn  the  manu- 
script.    And  yet,  he  gave  mc  his  word  of  honor." 

Voltaire  returned  to  his  room,  and,  now  alone  and  unob- 
served, a  malicious,  demoniac  exultation  was  written  on  his 
face.  "  I  judged  rightly,"  said  he,  with  a  grimace ;  "  the 
king  wished  to  sacrifice  me  to  Maupertius.  I  think  this  was 
a  master-stroke.  I  have  truly  burned  the  original  manu- 
IQript,  bi;t  ft  copy  of  it  -was  sent  to  Leyden  eight  da^s  sinc^ 


494  BERLIN   AND  SANS-SOUCI :  OR, 

While  the  king  thinks  I  am  such  a  good-humored  fool  as  to 
yield  the  contest  to  the  proud  beggar  Maupertius,  my 
*  Akakia '  will  be  published  in  Leyden.  Soon  it  will  ropound 
through  the  world,  and  show  how  genius  binds  puffed-up 
folly,  which  calls  itself  geniality,  to  the  pillory." 


CHAPTEK  XIII. 

THE  LAST  STRUGGLE. 

It  was  Christmas  eve!  The  streets  were  white  with 
snow;  crowds  of  people  were  rushing  through  the  castle 
square,  seeking  for  Christmas-trees,  and  little  presents  for 
their  children.  There  were,  however,  fewer  purchasers  than 
usual.  The  small  traders  stood  idle  at  the  doors  of  the 
booths,  and  looked  discontentedly  at  the  swarms  of  laughing 
men,  who  passed  by  them,  and  rushed  onward  to  the  Gens 
d'Armen  Market, 

A  rare  spectacle,  exhibited  for  the  first  time  during  the 
reign  of  Frederick,  was  to  be  seen  at  the  market  to-day. 
A  funeral  pyre  was  erected,  and  the  executioner  stood  near 
in  his  red  livery.  What! — shall  the  holy  evening  be  sol- 
emnized by  an  execution?  Was  it  for  this  that  thousands 
of  curious  men  were  rushing  onward  to  the  scaffold?  that 
groups  of  elegant  ladies  and  cavaliers  were  crowded  to 
the  open  windows  ? 

Yes,  there  was  to  be  an  execution — a  bloodless  one,  which 
would  occasion  no  bodily  suffering  to  the  delinquent.  The 
eyes  of  this  great  mass  of  people  were  not  directed  to  the 
scaffold,  but  to  the  window  of  a  large  house  on  Tauben 
Street. 

At  this  open  window  stood  a  pale  old  man,  with  hollow 
cheeks  and  bent,  infirm  form;  but  you  saw  by  the  proud 
bearing  of  his  head,  and  his  ironical,  contemptuous  smile, 
that  his  spirit  was  unconquered.  His  whole  face  glowed 
with  flaming  scorn ;  and  his  great,  fiery  eyes  flashed  amongst 
the  crowd,  greeting  here  and  there  an  accfuaintance. 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.    495 

This  man  was  Voltaire — Voltaire,  who  had  come  to  wit- 
ness the  execution  of  his  "  Akakia,"  which  had  been  pub- 
lished in  Leyden,  and  scattered  abroad  throughout  Berlin. 
Voltaire  had  broken  his  written  and  verbal  promise,  his  word 
of  honor;  and  the  king,  exasperated  to  the  utmost  by  this 
dishonorable  conduct,  had  determined  to  punish  him  openly. 
And  now,  amidst  the  breathless  silence  of  the  crowd,  a  func- 
tionary of  the  king  read  the  sentence — that  sentence  which 
condemned  the  "  Akakia,"  that  malicious  and  slanderous 
publication  holding  up  the  noble,  virtuous,  and  renowned 
scholar  Maupertius  to  the  general  mockery  of  Paris. 

Voltaire  stood  calm  and  smiling  at  the  open  window. 
He  saw  the  executioner  throw  great  piles  of  his  "  Akakia  " 
into  the  fire.  He  saw  the  mad  flames  whirling  up  into  the 
heavens,  and  his  countenance  was  clear,  and  his  eyes  did  not 
lose  their  lustre.  Higher  and  higher  flashed  the  flames! 
broader  and  blacker  the  pillars  of  smoke!  but  Voltaire 
smiled  peacefully.  Conversation  and  laughter  were  silenced 
—the  crowd  looked  on  breathlessly. 

Suddenly  a  loud  and  derisive  laugh  was  heard,  and  a 
powerful  voice  cried  out :  "  Look  at  the  spirit  of  Maupertius, 
which  is  dissolving  into  smoke !  Oh,  the  thick,  black  smoke ! 
How  much  wood  consumed  in  vain !  The  '  Akakia '  is  im- 
mortal— you  burn  him  here,  but  he  still  lives,  and  the  whole 
world  will  know  and  appreciate  him.  That  which  is  bom 
for  immortality  can  never  be  burned."  * 

So  said  Voltaire,  as  he  dashed  the  window  down,  and 
stepped  back  in  the  room. 

"  Farewell,  Herr  von  Francheville,"  said  he,  quietly.  "  I 
thank  you  for  having  allowed  me  to  be  present  at  my  execu- 
tion. You  see  I  have  borne  it  well;  all  do  not  die  who  are 
burnt.  Farewell,  I  must  go  to  the  castle.  I  have  impor- 
tant business  there." 

With  youthful  agility  he  entered  his  carriage.  The  peo- 
ple, who  recognized  him,  shouted  after  him  joyfully.  He 
passed  through  the  crowd  with  an  air  of  triumph,  and  they 
greeted  him  with  kindly  interest. 

The  smile  disappeared  from  his  face  when  he  entered  his 
room  at  the  castle,  and  the  scorn  and  tumult  of  his  heart 
*  Thiebault,  p.  265. 


496  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI:  OR, 

were  plainly  written  on  his  countenance.  He  seized  his  port- 
folio, and  drew  from  it  the  pension  patent  signed  by  the 
king;  tore  from  his  neck  the  blue  ribbon,  with  the  great 
badge  surrounded  with  brilliants,  and  cut  the  little  key 
from  his  court  dress,  which  his  valet  had  laid  out  ready  for 
his  toilet.  Of  these  things  he  made  a  little  packet,  which 
he  sealed  up,  and  wrote  upon  it  these  lines; 

"  Je  lea  rcQus  avec  tendresse, 
Je  vous  les  rends  avec  douleur ; 
C'est  ainsi  qu'un  amant,  dans  son  extreme  fureur, 
Bend  le  portrait  de  sa  maitresse." 

He  called  his  servant,  and  commanded  him  to  take  this 
packet  to  the  king. 

Voltaire  did  not  hesitate  a  moment.  He  felt  not  the 
least  regret  for  the  great  pension  which  he  was  relinquish- 
ing. He  felt  that  there  was  no  other  course  open  to  him; 
that  his  honor  and  his  pride  demanded  it.  At  this  moment, 
his  expression  was  noble.  He  was  the  proud,  independent, 
free  man.  The  might  of  genius  reigned  supreme,  and  sub- 
dued the  calculating  and  the  pitiful  for  a  brief  space.  This 
exalted  moment  soon  passed  away,  and  the  cunning,  miserly, 
calculating  old  man  again  asserted  his  rights.  Voltaire  re- 
membered that  he  had  not  only  given  up  orders  and  titles, 
but  gold,  and  measureless  anguish  and  raging  pain  took  pos- 
session of  him.  He  hastened  to  his  writing-desk,  and  with  a 
trembling  hand  he  wrote  a  pleading  letter  to  the  king,  in 
which  he  begged  for  pardon  and  grace — for  pity  in  his  un- 
happy circumstances  and  his  great  sorrow. 

The  king  was  merciful.  He  took  pity  on  the  old  friend- 
ship which  lay  in  ruins  at  his  feet.  He  felt  for  it  that  sort 
of  reverence  which  a  man  entertains  for  the  grave  of  a  lost 
friend.  He  returned  the  "  bagatelles  "  with  a  few  friendly 
lines  to  Voltaire,  and  invited  him  to  accompany  him  to 
Potsdam.  Voltaire  accepted  the  invitation,  and  the  journals 
announced  that  the  celebrated  French  v/riter  had  again  re- 
ceived his  orders,  titles,  and  pension,  and  gone  to  Potsdam 
with  the  king. 

But  this  seeming  peace  was  of  short  duration.  Friend- 
ship was  dead,  and  anger  and  bitterness  had  taken  the  place 


FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.     497 

of  consideration  and  love.  Voltaire  felt  the  impossibility  of 
remaining  longer.  Impelled  by  the  cold  glance,  the  ironical 
and  contemptuous  laughter  of  the  king,  he  begged  at  last 
for  his  dismissal,  which  the  king  did  not  refuse  him. 

One  day,  when  Frederick  was  upon  the  parade-ground, 
surrounded  by  his  generals,  he  was  told  that  Voltaire  asked 
permission  to  be  allowed  to  take  leave. 

The  king  turned  quietly  towards  him.  "  Ah,  Monsieur 
Voltaire,  you  are  resolved,  then,  to  leave  us  ? " 

"  Sire,  indispensable  business  and  my  state  of  health 
compel  me  to  do  so,"  said  Voltaire. 

The  king  bowed  slightly.  "  Monsieur,  I  wish  you  a 
happy  journey."  *  Then  turning  to  the  old  Field-Marshal 
Ziethen,  he  recommenced  his  conversation  with  him.  Vol- 
taire made  a  profound  bow,  and  entered  the  post-chaise 
which  was  waiting  for  him. 

So  they  parted,  and  their  friendship  was  in  ashes;  and 
no  after-protestations  could  bring  it  to  life.     The  great  king 
and  the  great  poet  parted,  never  to  meet  again. 
*  Thi6bault,  p.  271. 

(4) 


THE  END. 


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